The Peacemaker Prophesy
by Nimue Tucker
Summary: Winner Vampyr Dust Consuming Flame Award - Book Three of the Peacemaker Chronicles. The sequel to A New Life. Buffy and Spike are parents now and have to protect a Chosen One and learn to live and work together.
1. The Dance

Title: The Dance (Pt1 The Peacemaker Prophesy)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please. Especially now.  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, UPN. Anyone but me. Except those I made up. They're mine.  
  
Summary: First chapter of the Peacemaker Prophesy, Sequel to New Life.  
  
Spike and Buffy patrol and the new big bad settles into town.  
  
Author's Note: I debated releasing this book, and have held off longer than intended because of the upcoming episodes of BtVS. I was not sure if this story had a place anymore. When I thought it through, and discussed it with fellow fans, I decided that this is *my Spike*, *our Spike*. This is where many of us thought the character should go, rather than where he has been taken. My apologies to all whom are as crushed as I about the show itself and I am truly sorry if you find this story troubling in light of the new episodes, but this is how I see Spike in my world. And how he shall ever be.  
  
The Dance  
  
The Vampire came at her with such ferocity that she barely had time to  
  
react. Her foot hit the tombstone in front of her and she launched into a back flip, landing directly behind the startled creature and plunging the stake through his back. As the Vampire disintegrated into dust, the next grabbed her from behind and she kicked his shins, spinning and swiping his feet out from under him.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy could see that ubiquitous blond head  
  
bobbing and weaving, the sound of his fists hitting flesh and the occasional *poof*. Kinda hoped it wasn't him *poof*'ing. Did he even *poof* anymore? After the rounds they'd had in the last few days, if he still *poof*'d, she would be the one to *poof* him herself.  
  
"You alright, Pet?" Spike called, as the attacking Vampire gained his feet and launched back after Buffy. She jumped into the air, kicking the fledgling's jaw and knocking him to the pavement.  
  
"Meet Mr. Pointy," she said, as she plunged the stake into the vamp. "Fine, I can take care of myself," she snapped at Spike.  
  
"Take it easy, Goldilocks. Just a sodding question," Spike retorted,  
  
dusting another without taking a step.  
  
"What's going on in this town? Vampiralooza?" Buffy complained as her fist caught her third and the dance continued.  
  
"You live for this and you know it," Spike called back as he got a fist in the cheek. "Ow, that *hurt*," he complained, wiping the blood from his mouth and plunging the stake into the young one at the same time. "Dunno, Pet, but they're out in full force."  
  
"Would have never brought you with me tonight if it weren't this bad," she panted, ducking a right hook.  
  
"Brought me? I think I can choose for my bleeding self," he huffed  
  
indignantly, roundhouse kicking the next in line.  
  
"One of us should be home. Emma's got a fever and what if Tara's protection spell doesn't hold." Buffy disintegrated another young vamp and leaned over, catching her breath. Spike was working on what looked to be the last one.  
  
"First off," he preached, "these are vampires. Can't come in less you  
  
invite them. Shoulda learned that by now." Buffy scowled. "All we've seen for weeks," he continued, non-plussed. He casually tossed a right hook at the fledgling and knocked him to the ground. Spike put his foot on the vampire's chest to hold him down. "Second, Tara's spell has worked smashingly. Surprised me, really. Even bounced old Clem cross the street before she adjusted it a bit."  
  
Buffy was fuming. She hated it when he was right. Even worse when he knew it.  
  
"Last of all, Emma's fever was exactly one-hundred when we left. Checked it myself. Babies get fevers like that all the time."  
  
"What, your Mr. Spock now?" Buffy asked, annoyance rising in her voice.  
  
"You might want to stake him," she continued, looking at the utterly  
  
confused vamp under Spike's boot. "Think he's trying to bite your leg."  
  
Sure enough, the fledgling was in game face and trying to sink his teeth  
  
into Spike's calf. "Stupid, sodding whelp," Spike said, disgusted, leaning down to vaporize the vamp. "And it's Dr. Spock. Damn smart bloke."  
  
"What with the correct-y-ness?" Buffy complained, assuming fighting stance again. Spike's head spun, looking for more vampires, but there was nary an undead body in sight. He looked back at Buffy strangely. God, she was beautiful when she was angry.  
  
"Whatdya mean, Pet?" he hissed, striding toward her in his most annoyingly confident walk.  
  
"Gotta be right about everything," she grunted as she spun, kicking him in the shoulder. The force was no where near her hardest, but it stung all the same. She wanted to dance. Never one to disappoint the lady.  
  
"Can't help I'm just smart like that," he shot back, deflecting a right hook aimed near his face. "Gonna hafta do better than that to get at me, Pet."  
  
Those eyes. That smirk. She didn't know whether she wanted to kill him or drown in him. Her heart raced, her blood pumping fast and furious. Maybe a little of both. Had to bait him first.  
  
"What? You don't even care your daughter is sick?" she tossed out,  
  
regretting it as soon as it slid off her lips. Oh, that hit the button all right. His face blanked and his eyes dropped.  
  
What the hell?, he thought. She knows better. She...she said that on  
  
purpose. Ah, women. "That was low."  
  
For a moment, she felt truly guilty. He saw it flash across her face,  
  
before she danced again. "A little," she fired, catching him with a  
  
forceless left jab. He shot one back, admittedly not as hard as he would have in the past or did in training. Training was different. Here she was Buffy, not the Slayer. Her eyes twinkled as she responded to him with another kick, pushing him back. Spike began to spar with her. He could tell she wasn't aiming to hurt anymore. This is just what she lived for.  
  
Not just any dance. His dance.  
  
Fighting him was erotic, primal, beautiful. Part of her he knew she would never let go. He never wanted her to let go of it. They would never find out who would win. Didn't really matter anymore because, in the end, neither of them would. It was never the fight. It was about the heat.  
  
"What, can't take a hit anymore?" Buffy baited, as Spike reeled back from a roundhouse.  
  
"Can," he said, hoarsely, grabbing her wrists as she swung her arms forward. "But that's not what you're after," he growled, pulling her hard against him. Her chest banged into his and he held her arms behind her back with equal force. "You're just getting warmed up," he whispered, letting his lips brush lightly against hers in stark contrast to her aggressiveness. A little mewl escaped her lips and he responded with a ferocious, bruising kiss that melted her knees and made her whimper for joy. Buffy trembled against him, setting his body on fire with her vulnerability. God, this girl was perfect.  
  
She hopped up, wrapping her legs lazily around his waist without ever  
  
letting her mouth move from his. The friction of denim on denim nearly did him in. Hell, looking at her all flushed and pretty was nearly enough. He stumbled back, trying to still his reeling mind and backed her to the crypt door.  
  
"You don't live here anymore," she panted, as he backed through the door. Buffy was still latched around his waist, driving him insane with her warm, sweet breath and her tight, pretty legs.  
  
"Consider it a summer house," he responded. He'd kept it up in case they ever needed a place to hide, or, well, in case of this, he admitted to himself. She chuckled softly as her tongue traced his lips.  
  
"Planned ahead?" she asked, as he set her gently on the arm of the couch.  
  
"Boy Scout," he whispered, shrugging off his duster and unbuttoning her  
  
blouse simultaneously. She ripped his shirt, pulling him to her and falling back onto the couch.  
  
"My shirt!" he panted, indignantly as she reached for the waistband of his jeans. Then he felt her hands.... "Hell with it," he growled, his lips finding hers again. Yes, this dance was more fun.  
  
*****  
  
They walked lazily home, her fingers weaving loosely in and out of his,  
  
tracing his palm. The one thing about parenthood, Spike thought, was there was never enough time for her. Never enough to explore Buffy the way he wanted to, to give her everything he wanted to give. But Emma had been worth every minute.  
  
"Record time," Buffy joked, glancing at her watch. "Patrol and extra  
  
curricular rough and tumble in three hours flat."  
  
"I'll remind you that patrol only lasted an hour," Spike responded, "and you got the abridged extra credit simply because of a sickly tot."  
  
"Oh, now you're all noble," she answered, rolling her eyes. "Could have  
  
fooled me back there."  
  
"Only give what I am asked for," he answered, smiling softly.  
  
"TouchÃ©."  
  
Spike was silent, thinking as her fingers brushed his hand. "Buffy?"  
  
"What?" she asked, lazily wrapping her arm around him. They turned the  
  
corner onto Revello. He stopped, turning her towards him. Looking at her pretty doe eyes.  
  
"What you said back there.... You know that I... That nothing comes before you and Emma. You know that, right?" His crystal blue eyes were so serious. So tender.  
  
"What... what did I say?" Buffy asked, her mind still dancing and foggy  
  
from the crypt.  
  
"About not caring that Emma was sick."  
  
The guilt struck her like a freight train. She had wanted to bait him, to rile him up, not to hurt him. Buffy didn't want that anymore at all.  
  
"Spike," she stuttered," I know that. It was the wrong thing to say. I'm sorry."  
  
Spike looked at her in shock. "Did the Slayer just apologize with minimal prompting?" he snarked.  
  
Buffy smiled slyly. "*Very* good mood," she answered, starting to stroll back down the street, his hand still woven in hers.  
  
*****  
  
"Rough night?" Dawn asked from her perch on the couch as Buffy and Spike walked through the door. Spike glanced down at his tattered shirt and quickly excused himself up the stairs. Buffy walked into the living room. The coffee table was covered in books. Not a sight she was used to seeing in front of Dawn, but welcome all the same.  
  
Tara walked through from the kitchen, brushing Buffy softly on her way past. "Looks more like date night to me," Tara whispered, smiling softly, and heading into the dining room.  
  
"Hungry," Buffy said quickly, clapping her hands together nervously and  
  
speeding off towards the kitchen.  
  
*****  
  
Spike pulled off his shirt as he walked down the hall, tossing it through the bedroom door as he passed on his way to Emma's room. He could hear the baby gurgling happily from the hallway. "How's my girl?" he announced as he stepped through the doorway.  
  
Emma was curled in Xander's arms, tugging on the sleeves of his shirt, her happy eyes dancing almost as much as his. They were parked in a chair near the door. Her feet were kicking with wild delight at the faces the whelp made at her.  
  
At the sound of Spike's voice, Xander looked up, startled almost out of his skin. "Uh...I'm... she woke up and she... was crying.. and..." Xander began to stand, nervously shuffling his feet.  
  
Spike thought for a moment. Hard. Part of him wanted to take the baby away from the git who had invested so much effort in hurting him over the years. The other, more foreign, half felt sorry for the bloke. Knew Buffy'd be all right with it. Knew the bugger hated him but would never in a million years hurt a baby. 'Specially not Buffy's. "No, no. It's fine," Spike muttered, leaning down and tickling the baby's stomach. She wriggled, laughing in Xander's arms. "Need to take a quick shower anyway. Mind her for a few more minutes?"  
  
"S..sure," Xander stuttered, settling back down into the chair. The shock was evident in his eyes as well as in his voice.  
  
"Right then. Back in a minute, mite," Spike whispered to Emma, kissing her forehead then spinning back out of the room.  
  
*****  
  
The lighted flickered, shooting an orange flame, igniting the end of the  
  
cigarette. The red glow grew and spread. He snapped the silver box closed with a flick of an elegant wrist and slid it slowly into the pocket of his crisp, pressed slacks. He leaned against the lamp post on the corner across the street from the Slayer's home, watching. Waiting. Finding the pattern.  
  
The protection spell had been well cast. The good witch may not have been as powerful as her mate once had been, but she'd done this one right and proper. The sandy haired man had sent his best to test it in the hours just before morning and they had barely reached the sidewalk before being ejected back across the street. He took another long draw from the cigarette. This would take more...finesse.  
  
He had watched the Slayer and the Vampire in the graveyard. It would not be an exaggeration to suspect that, as a unit, they were unbeatable. Apart, there was a chance. Their connection was strong, as if the movement flowed from her body to his and back again. Even as they battled each other, they completed each other's movements with the fluidity of a ballet. The sandy haired man smiled at himself. Oh, to be in love.  
  
Boy's turned out to be quite a fighter, he thought. Never expected that.  
  
It was fascinating how their sparring turned, without hesitation, into this primordial, ancient love. How the fists stopped and eyes locked and muscles used for violence suddenly melted seamlessly into one. That ballet, it seemed, was the one that truly mattered. There was a tenderness in even their force, a sweetness in their anger. Ash slipped to the ground as he remembered the one woman the sandy haired man had loved like that. Loved with every fiber, ever muscle, every tick of his once beating heart.  
  
He flicked the cigarette to the pavement in disgust. Love had no place in the game. No place in the world. Nor did peace. Not after all this.  
  
There was a way. In the meantime, he'd just bide his time and watch.  
  
The sandy haired man turned on a well-polished heel and disappeared back into the night.  
  
To be contd. 


	2. Six Months

Title: Six Months (pt 2 The Peacemaker Prophesy)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please. Especially now.  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, UPN. Anyone but me. Except those I made up. They're mine.  
  
Summary: The Big Bad is revealed, but can you tell who he is? Spike gives Buffy a little surprise. Giles discovers more of the prophesy.  
  
  
  
Six Months  
  
"Gwydion?" a young, dark haired vampire called, rushing toward the sandy haired man. Gwydion stepped into the candlelit room of the rented house, calm and serene again, recovered from his trip down memory lane. He put his hand up calmly, stopping the younger vampire in his tracks.  
  
"Not now," Gwydion snapped, flicking his hand and sending the young one  
  
flying back against the wall. "Now is the time to think." Gwydion sat in a large, velvet covered chair. A small girl rushed over with a snifter of brandy. Sweet child, he thought. Too bad she'll have to be breakfast.  
  
Gwydion lit another cigarette and eased back into the chair.  
  
"Gwydion?" the younger vampire asked again, slowly approaching the older creature, stopping just out of his reach.  
  
"What is it?" the sandy haired man asked, his tone thick with annoyance.  
  
"The Slayer and the traitor killed twelve of us tonight, sir. Think they may be onto us."  
  
"This is the Hellmouth, Simon," Gwydion responded in his smooth London  
  
accent. "Simply a busy night."  
  
"But we've lost an entire team," Simon answered, his fear evident.  
  
"Not as if we cannot produce more." Another long drag of his cigarette.  
  
"It will only take one of us to kill the child."  
  
"We cannot get near the house," Simon said, sitting on the footstool next to his master. "And even if we could, none of us could outfight either parent."  
  
"If all goes according to plan, we will not have to fight at all," Gwydion replied simply, the tip of the cigarette glowing red as he pulled in another draw. As the red faded, he lifted the snifter, swirling the amber liquid, watching it like blood.  
  
"Then why..." Simon began.  
  
"Enough questions," Gwydion interrupted. "Now go and rest. It's almost  
  
morning."  
  
"Yes, sir," the darker vampire complied, knowing what his master could do if crossed.  
  
"Simon?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Before you retire, get Quentin on the phone for me."  
  
"The Council?"  
  
"I have a little...information for them," Gwydion responded, flashing a  
  
dazzling, elegant smile.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
*****  
  
"Dawn?" Spike's voice boomed from the bottom of the stairs. "C'mon Nibs. Don't feel like dealing with your sis having to 'splain why you're tardy again."  
  
Dawn bounded down the steps like a puppy, panting. "Sorry," she answered, taking her knapsack out of Spike's outstretched hand. "You make lunch or Buffy?" she asked, hesitantly, eyeing the bag.  
  
Spike raised an eyebrow. "She did." Dawn frowned. "But I swapped it out."  
  
Dawn leaned forward, pecking him on the cheek, and bounding out the door. Spike walked back into the kitchen, hoisting himself onto the counter. She should be down soon. Wonder if she'll like it, he thought.  
  
"Like what?" Buffy asked, walking into the kitchen, Emma balanced on her hip. Even at six months old, the tot looked exactly like her mum. 'Cept for those eyes. Those are mine, Spike thought.  
  
"Did I say that aloud?" he asked, staring oddly at her, shaking his head. Buffy shrugged, walking up to the counter and reaching for a bowl with her free hand. He slid his onto hers, stopping her mid grab.  
  
"Not today, Love," he whispered, his face dangerously close to hers. She could feel her skin ignite and her mouth melt into a pleasant little smile at the sound of his voice.  
  
"I'm hungry," she whined, looking up at him. Gotta stop that. He opened a door in the crypt last night that I just can't seem to shut, she thought. Unwittingly, she blushed.  
  
"Nasty thoughts, Love?" he asked, brushing her hair from her face with  
  
gentle fingers.  
  
"Did I sat *that* aloud?" she quipped. "You gonna tell me why the bowl is bad?"  
  
"Cos," Spike answered, smiling. "Warm morning."  
  
"And the point that you someday hope to get to...."  
  
"And," he enunciated, "thought you might want to have breakfast outside." Spike continued, hopping down from the counter, her hand still in his, leading her through the back door.  
  
Against the tree line, Spike had laid out a blanket, spread with tons of  
  
fruit, toast, a very tasteful wine carafe full of what looked to be orange juice and of course, Emma's bottle tucked neatly into a warm towel. It was almost too sweet for words.  
  
"What's wrong?" Buffy asked, turning back towards Spike with a worried  
  
frown.  
  
"Whadya mean?" Spike asked, confused. "Thought you and the mite might like a little daylight."  
  
"That's all?" Buffy said, still concerned by the gesture.  
  
"Course," Spike answered, "Try to do something nice...."  
  
"No, no, " she interrupted, looking back up at his eyes. Close the door, she thought as her knees went soft. Very awake, squirming baby. "Just... no one ever.. you know..."  
  
"Well, get used to it, already," Spike said, kissing her cheek and heading back toward the house.  
  
"Where...where are you going?"  
  
"Rupert called," he answered. "Need to phone him back. Said it was  
  
important."  
  
"Oh," Buffy said quietly.  
  
"Be back, Pet," he said, reading her face. God, it was nice to be wanted for once.  
  
"Good," she answered, smiling and sauntering over to the blanket, turning her attention back to Emma. Spike shook his head and headed indoors.  
  
*****  
  
"Vampires?" Spike asked, leaning against the kitchen wall, the phone  
  
cradled between his ear and shoulder. "Would explain the Second Coming  
  
round here."  
  
"What do you mean, Spike?" Giles asked, politely.  
  
"Crawling out of the bleeding woodwork. Buffy and I must have taken a dozen last night and that was a slow evening."  
  
"Any sign of the leader?"  
  
"No clue," Spike answered, shifting uncomfortably.  
  
"The prophesy says that the first assault upon the Peacemaker...."  
  
"Can we refrain from using the word assault and referring to my daughter in the same sentence?" Spike snapped.  
  
"My apologies," the Watcher responded, guilt lacing his words.  
  
"On with it, then," Spike prodded.  
  
"The prophesy indicates that the first... threat.. against Emma will be from a Vampire. A Master Vampire."  
  
"My line?" Spike asked. "Don't tell me the bloody Poofter..."  
  
"No, no. Angel is no threat."  
  
"Oh, yeah. The *soul*," Spike said sarcastically.  
  
"Darla seems to be dead at this time."  
  
"Good to know." Spike was quiet for a long moment. Giles read his thoughts like an open book.  
  
"You don't think?"  
  
"Drusilla?" Spike asked. He was silent again, turning the thought over in his head. "Rupert, I'll admit she was crazy as a nuthatch and liked a good spot of violence, but she never went in for killing children. Not after what happened to her."  
  
"You positive?" Giles asked.  
  
Again silence. "Rupert, in all honesty, would you put Drusilla in charge of an important plot to rid the world of peace?"  
  
"I wouldn't have put her in charge of laundry." Giles responded, dryly.  
  
Spike stifled a chuckle.  
  
"Never any good at that either," Spike snickered. "So, anything else?"  
  
"Not much. Only that this threat will arise in her sixth month of  
  
existence." Spike went deadly quiet. This time, it was a silence he  
  
couldn't break. "Spike, what is it?"  
  
"She'll be six months old day after tomorrow," Spike responded quietly.  
  
"*Spike? *" A frightened scream ripped the air from the backyard. Buffy. Spike slammed the phone down on the receiver and fled out the door.  
  
to be contd. 


	3. Butterflies

Title: Butterflies (The Peacemaker Prophesy pt 3)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please. Especially now.  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, UPN. Anyone but me. Except those I made up. They're mine.  
  
Summary: Spike and Buffy find that their daughter is more than meets the eye. Giles hatches a plan but leaves Spike to tell Buffy...  
  
Butterflies  
  
It seemed an eternity from the time Spike heard Buffy's impassioned scream to the time he stood in the yard, staring in shocked stillness at Buffy. She was on her knees, her hands frozen, outstretched in front of her, with the strangest combination of terror and wonder on her face.  
  
Butterflies, Spike thought, as he pulled from his frozen stance, stepping barefoot across the lawn. Emma was lying on her back on the blanket, her arms and legs stretched towards the sky, laughing merrily. Surrounded by butterflies. Her arms, her legs, perched on her tiny fingertips. Spike walked closer, an eyebrow raised, wondering if concern or amusement was the proper reaction.  
  
Finally, he made it to Buffy's side and dropped down on his knees next to her. Time seemed to have slowed to a fraction of its normal pace, as Buffy was still frozen reaching toward Emma. Guess it wasn't quite as effective on Vampires.  
  
Then he noticed.  
  
These weren't butterflies at all.  
  
Tiny porcelain faces shone between glittering, coloured wings. Rings of  
  
minute flowers circling silken hair. They were speaking. Spike shook his head, attempting to clear the vision. The little creatures noticed. As if realizing their effect, they fluttered wildly and time snapped back to life.  
  
Buffy sprung forward.  
  
"Emma!" she screeched, lurching forwards. Spike put his hand out, stopping her as the little creatures retreated, hovering in a ring above Emma's head like a living halo. "Spike?" Buffy gasped, shifting her gaze to the Vampire. He was staring curiously at the winged muses which were now dancing rings around his daughter's head. "Spike, what are they?"  
  
Spike swallowed. "Fairies," he said, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.  
  
Also knowing it was the truth.  
  
"Like Tinkerbelle?" Buffy asked, suddenly becoming six years old in an  
  
instant.  
  
"Pretty close," Spike answered, watching one land on Emma's palm and sit as if resting her tired wings.  
  
"Are they... dangerous?" Buffy asked, eyes glued to the dancing, coloured, wings.  
  
"No," he answered, "Mischievous, but not dangerous."  
  
"Oh, like you?" Buffy quipped, suddenly recovering her sense of humour or lack thereof. Spike smirked at her. "How do you know what they are?"  
  
"When we were kids," Spike began, rocking back until he was sitting on his heels, "my mum used to read us stories about the fairie folk. They lived in meadows and flowers and trees. Sometimes, my sister and I would go off in the wood looking for them."  
  
"Did you ever find them?"  
  
"No," he answered. "They'd leave rings in the grass. We'd always get there just a moment too late, Camille and me. All that was left were dewy little rings in the grass."  
  
Buffy could see Spike's memories like movies playing across his sapphire  
  
eyes. "You miss that life, don't you?" she asked. He turned back towards her.  
  
"Got a better one now, Pet," he answered, touching her hand. The fairies danced one more ring around the giggling child then dispersed into the tree line. Time flowed normally once again.  
  
They were silent for a long time. "What does it mean?" Buffy finally  
  
asked, scooping Emma up into her arms.  
  
"Not sure, Love. But I'm not afraid."  
  
Buffy looked at him for what felt like eternity. "Neither am I."  
  
*****  
  
The shrill sound of the phone ringing wildly for the millionth time finally got Buffy to her feet. They lay on the blanket in the shadows of the trees until the sun was high in the sky. Spike was laying with his arms behind his head with Emma perched on his bare chest or else he might've gotten up to answer the phone.  
  
Buffy trotted into the house, pushing the button on the answering machine as Giles' voice started rambling on, full of angst and concern. "H...Hello?" she said, nearly dropping the phone as she rushed to answer and shut of the machine in one movement.  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"Hi, Giles."  
  
"Everything alright? I've been calling for hours. Spike was..."  
  
"There was an ... incident," Buffy responded, mapping out her words.  
  
"An incident?"  
  
Spike walked in, carrying the little girl, balanced between his forearm and his chest. "I'll let Spike explain," Buffy said quickly.  
  
"Explain wha..."  
  
The Watcher's words were cut off as Buffy put her hand over the mouthpiece and jutted her arms towards Spike.  
  
"Right, let me talk about the fairies like a..." he stuttered.  
  
"A fairy?" Buffy joked, completing the hand off by trading phone for child.  
  
"Looks like I still win, Pet," Spike joked as Buffy crinkled her nose at the smell emanating from Emma's diaper. She reached back toward the phone but Spike wagged a finger at her.  
  
"Rupert?" he said smugly as Buffy stomped out of the kitchen.  
  
*****  
  
"Buffy?" Spike said sullenly, padding into Emma's room, barefoot and bare chested. "We need to talk." He was so serious. Buffy was leaning over Emma's crib. She craned her head to look at him. His eyes. She hadn't seen that horrible sadness in forever. "She asleep?" he asked, nodding at the crib. Buffy nodded, turning towards Spike. He held out his hand and she latched on as if he was throwing her a life preserver.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked as he led her down the hall into her room. Their room. He was silent. Spike took her shoulders softly in his hands and sat her on the bed, squatting down in front of her. God, she was so beautiful, he thought.  
  
"Buffy...." he began, not knowing what to say, how to say it.  
  
"It's not... what happened outside...with the Tinkerbelles..."  
  
"No," he said, shaking his head. He held her hands, feeling her warm, soft palms against his. "No, Giles seems to think they mean to help her."  
  
"Help?"  
  
"They're part of her...quest?" he said, trying to explain without really understanding himself. "But that's not what we need to talk about."  
  
"Then what?" Buffy asked, poised between confusion, annoyance, and fear.  
  
"The Watcher seems to think," Spike said slowly, punctuating every word,  
  
"that whoever it is that wants to hurt Emma is a Vampire. Someone in my  
  
line."  
  
"Not..."  
  
"No," he answered, not wanting to have that discussion just now. "Not  
  
Darla, nor Dru. Point being, he doesn't know exactly who."  
  
"Is that why patrol has been..."  
  
"Yeah," Spike answered, completing her thought in his head. "And the  
  
prophesy says that the... threat.. will come during her sixth month of human existence."  
  
"But that's..."  
  
"Day after tomorrow," he finished.  
  
"Doesn't Giles know any more about who?" Buffy asked, fear creeping into her voice. "Or do I need to stake every undead creature in this town in two days."  
  
"Not that simple, Pet," Spike said, swallowing. "We need to find who's  
  
pulling their strings."  
  
"Then we will," Buffy answered, resolutely.  
  
"Quickly."  
  
"Let's go. I'll call Tara to come and watch Emma," she said, starting to panic, getting up and rifling through drawers for weapons. Spike rocked back on his heels, his head dropping.  
  
"Buffy," he breathed, frustrated, not with her, but with what he had to do, "Giles has a plan. I don't like it, but I think the sodding Watcher has a point."  
  
"What?" Buffy asked, hope and fear clashing in her eyes like a rolling  
  
thunderstorm.  
  
"He thinks I should go," Spike said, quietly.  
  
"Go?" Buffy replied, anger rising. "That's brilliant. Shoulda thought of that myself. That way I can leave Emma alone every night, fight twice as many vamps *and* do it all myself. Good plan." She was pacing, fury flushing her face.  
  
"Buffy," Spike said, patiently, standing, walking towards her. "He thinks I should... pretend... that things didn't work out for me here... with us... and that I'm out for revenge. That I want to help destroy you. Then see if I can connect with whoever it is that wants Emma. Once I'm in, I can take care of him."  
  
"No, Spike," she hissed, teeth clenched. "Bad plan. I don't want.." Tears began to roll.  
  
"I don't *want* either," he continued, taking her shoulders in his hands  
  
again. "But it is a sound plan and we need to do something to protect Emma. Not one of mine either, so it might actually work."  
  
Buffy chuckled, wiping the tears off her cheeks. "How long?" she whispered, staring up at his eyes.  
  
"Not long," Spike answered, pressing his lips to her forehead.  
  
"And I...we... can't see you?"  
  
" I was thinking," Spike answered, pulling her closer, "if I go back to the crypt, we may be able to sneak you through the tunnels from the Magic Box. But only once in a while. And only in daylight. S'gotta look good. Think you can pretend to hate me?" he asked, laughing a little.  
  
"Oh, yeah," she responded, pushing him softly. She smiled a bit. "But  
  
what about here? I mean, just doesn't seem all that safe for Emma with just Dawn and I here to protect her."  
  
"Ah," Spike said, "Watcher said the same. Now we get to the part I really don't like," he continued, backing toward the bed, sitting on the edge. She stood positioned between his legs.  
  
"What?" she asked, calmly.  
  
"Watcher said to bring in some protection for you. Or more for Emma since you seem to hold your own."  
  
"And?"  
  
"As much as it pains me to say," Spike said, looking genuinely conflicted, "he's probably right."  
  
"About what?"  
  
"Angel."  
  
To be contd. 


	4. Want

Title: Want (The Peacemaker Prophesy pt 4)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please. Especially now.  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, UPN. Anyone but me. Except those I made up. They're mine.  
  
Summary: Spike explains Giles' plan to Buffy, but how we she react?  
  
Want  
  
"Angel?" Buffy repeated tentatively, carefully avoiding lacing her words with any emotion of any sort.  
  
"I despise this Buffy, but Watcher's right. Emma needs someone here a  
  
little better equipped than the whelp, not that he would be my first choice either. If Red still had her powers, maybe, but we need a little more muscle." Spike said, trying to rationalize even thinking about leaving his love alone with her first ... everything.  
  
Buffy was silent. Not sure how to react. Angel. Not what she wanted to deal with at this point, but she couldn't say it would be awful to see him again. Spike was staring at her, trying to get inside her pretty, blonde head. Trouble was, Buffy did not know what was there either.  
  
Her eyes met Spike's and suddenly none of it mattered. She lost herself in those eyes in a way she had never been lost in anything. It had always been him. "I'd rather have your... muscle... here," Buffy said slyly, climbing onto his legs, straddling his lap. Spike smiled, relieved. He put his hands on her pretty face. "Why can't he go all under cover-y?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Soul," Spike answered. "Vampires will smell it a mile away."  
  
"I don't *want* this, " Buffy whispered, leaning forward, her lips brushing his. His hands were behind her neck, holding her there. His forehead pressed to hers.  
  
"We have to."  
  
"I know," she said, quietly. "Angel, does he know?"  
  
"Don't think so," Spike answered, knowing she meant about him, about Emma, about any of the events of the last few years. "I'll be the one to tell him, all right?"  
  
"Yeah," Buffy answered, sliding closer, her body locking into place on his. "When?" she whispered, her voice filled with need.  
  
"Want him here tonight. When we go on patrol, we'll argue. Badly. You  
  
will have to do this well, Buffy, for them to believe us. No matter what is said, we both have to understand that it is not real. *This* is real," he whispered, kissing her softly. "We'll make sure to do this when we know we are being watched. You've felt that, haven't you."  
  
"Someone watching? Yeah. I have."  
  
"We'll have to make them believe, Buffy. Then you'll come home, and I'll be gone."  
  
"Don't want gone," she said softly, taking his earlobe between her teeth. His eyes closed and he hummed softly. Gone was the last thing he wanted. Not now, not ever. Not for one minute. Her hair smelled like vanilla. Her warm breath blew in tiny gasps on his neck. "Want," she whispered again, pushing him flat against the bed.  
  
"Want what?" Spike asked, staring up at her, trying to control the tremble in his voice. She melted him, always did. Buffy pulled his arms over his head and held them with one of her hands, the other trailed lazily down his bare chest.  
  
She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. Admiring him. "Want to know if you'll miss me." Spike began to sit up under her, but she held him still. "Want to know if you love me." Spike grunted, bucking under her and flipping her onto her back. He stretched out against her like a cat.  
  
"Do you really need to ask that?" he said, pressing hard against her. She bit her lip, drowning in him all over again.  
  
"Want to," she said quietly.  
  
"Right, then," Spike said, nodding and pulling off her camisole in one  
  
movement. " I will miss your eyes," he started, butterfly kisses grazing each of her eyelids. "And your nose." The gentle kiss to the tip which always turned her into butter in the summer sun.. "Your ears," he whispered, lighting her on fire with his breath blowing against her sensitive skin. "Your neck." His teeth grazed her skin and she let a happy little gasp escape her lips. "Your shoulders." His hands were *way* ahead of his mouth and she was losing track to which she should be paying attention. Buffy surrendered to him completely. Lost in him. Found in him. Never let her down...  
  
*****  
  
A hungry cry from the next room awoke her. Buffy's eyes fluttered lazily open. She was tangled under, around, in Spike. Their legs and arms a pretzel of golden and pale skin. No sheets, no quilt, no pillows, nothing in sight. She sighed, flopping back against the mattress.  
  
"Troubles, Love?" Spike asked, one eye flickering open. He was face down beside her, still knotted around her.  
  
"Trying to locate clothing," she huffed in reply.  
  
"Lost cause," Spike answered. "Somewhere in the vicinity, but you may as well start from scratch." He lazily began to untangle himself from her. Emma was still crying in her room.  
  
"Love baby. Baby loud," Buffy muttered, sliding off the mattress and  
  
stumbling weak legged to the dresser. How did he do that?, she thought.  
  
Make my legs completely cease to work.  
  
"Have I ever told you that you have a way with words?" Spike asked, smiling at her as she made her way across the room. He loved to watch her move. Naked in daylight was that much the better. He propped on one elbow, now fully awake.  
  
"You *could* go get her," Buffy complained.  
  
"You, Love, have a beautiful backside," he said, utterly distracted by her. A rolled up T-shirt smacked him in the head.  
  
"Back to the real world, Spike."  
  
"Felt pretty real to me," he gloated, rolling onto his back and smiling up at the ceiling.  
  
"You know, the one where we get to be responsible adults and..... *crap*.." She muttered, falling over forward while trying to pull her sweats on.  
  
Spike got up, stifling the urge to chuckle, and pulled her to her feet.  
  
"You get Emma squared away and I'll tidy up Hiroshima, all right?" Buffy nodded in agreement. "Then I'll call the bloody Poofter and you get your little friend brigade over her for a fill-in."  
  
"First," she said, light heartedly," I'd lay off the *Poofter* stuff while your asking him for a favour right *after* you tell him that you knocked me up and we're living like the Brady Bunch. Second of all, I like to think of the brigade more as a ....team. Like the Superfriends."  
  
"Just go get the girl," Spike smiled, tossing the balled T-shirt back at her and hitting her square in the bottom. She tore from the room, giggling.  
  
*****  
  
"Angel Investigations," an overly chipper voice chirped into the phone.  
  
"C'I talk to the Po... to Angel. Please," Spike asked, smirking at his own politeness.  
  
"Sure, can I tell him who's calling?"  
  
Spike bristled. "Old friend," he grunted. The line went silent for a long time.  
  
"This is Angel," the old familiar voice brooded.  
  
"Dear, old granddad."  
  
"Spike? You learned to use the phone! What next? Coffee pot?"  
  
Spike thought about answering, 'No, but I've gotten bloody good at nuking bottles,' but thought the better of it. "Enough pleasantries."  
  
"What do you want?" Angel asked with obvious annoyance.  
  
"That's better," Spike said. He was easier to deal with as a pompous arse. "Need your help."  
  
"You. Asking me. For help?"  
  
"Not what you're thinking, mate," Spike retorted, defensively. "Not for me, anyhow. For Buffy... and..."  
  
"What's wrong with Buffy?" Angel asked, suddenly becoming extremely  
  
concerned and dropping his arrogance completely. Spike did *not* like the tone. Poofter still had a thing for her. Maybe the whelp and Glenda could...  
  
"She needs protection," Spike said, clearing the stupid thought from his  
  
mind and swallowing his pride. He trusted Buffy, even if he didn't trust his grandsire far as he could toss him. Not even that far.  
  
"Buffy?" Angel said, incredulously.  
  
"Not exactly," Spike answered. "Her daughter."  
  
"Daughter?"  
  
"Just be here by nine," Spike said, hanging up the phone.  
  
  
  
To be contd. 


	5. In and Out

Title: In and Out (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 5)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: Spike has to swallow his pride and admit to Buffy that it is best for Angel to watch out for Emma while Spike is away. How do Buffy and Spike react?  
  
In and Out  
  
Spike paced around the room like a lion. Don't like this, he thought. Bad feeling. Don't want to leave my girls. Don't want the sodding Nancy Boy here. Don't want to pretend I hate her. Don't want to sleep alone again.  
  
"You OK, Spike?" Tara asked. They were all sitting around the coffee table while Buffy explained the ins and outs of Giles' plan. Emma was curled in Dawn's lap, tugging the teenager's fingers. Spike wondered if Emma had ever touched the ground, she was held so much. He smiled. It felt good to hold her. Spike walked to Dawn and scooped the baby up, resuming his pacing.  
  
"Spike?" Buffy asked.  
  
"What, Love?"  
  
"You all right?"  
  
"Not happy bout this," he said as the little girl's head sleepily plunked against his chest.  
  
"I know," she answered, sadly smiling. "Not long, right?"  
  
"Not long," he answered.  
  
"We'll all stay around," Tara said. "I can sleep on the floor if you like."  
  
"You can have my bed," Buffy responded. Spike looked at her oddly. "I'm going to stay in Emma's room. I'll sleep in the recliner. Dawn has her own room now and Angel can sleep down here. Or in the basement. We'll figure something out."  
  
Spike just paced. "Time is it, Pet?"  
  
"9:15," she answered, looking at her watch.  
  
Spike didn't want to leave tonight. Knew it meant not coming back. Where the hell was the Poofter? Emma began to get restless and mewl against his chest. "Need to put the tot to sleep," he said, looking over at Buffy with a sad desperation in his eyes. She knew he didn't want to put her down. Didn't want to walk away.  
  
"Head up. I'll be right there," Buffy said, nodding to him, knowing that they needed some time alone as well. Spike started up the steps carefully. Buffy watching him with a sweetness the others had forgotten she knew.  
  
"Buffy, why don't you go ahead up with Emma," Xander said. "We'll catch  
  
Angel when he gets here."  
  
"Thanks," Buffy whispered, standing.  
  
"You..you OK?" Willow stuttered.  
  
"Not really," Buffy answered softly, heading toward the stairs.  
  
*****  
  
Buffy padded softly to the doorway of Emma's room. Spike was standing in the window facing away, still clinging to the little girl. It was sweet how he held her. How he spoke to her. She knew this was hard all around, but especially on him. He had not been away since Emma came into the world, and Buffy knew that he did not want to go anywhere. She thought about walking over to him, but felt that maybe he needed this time with Emma. Buffy turned quietly and headed back to their room to take a quick shower.  
  
*****  
  
A knock came at the door. Dawn got up from her seat on the couch and  
  
walked quietly to the door, not sure if she wanted to open it or let things be. Her loyalties were to Spike. Spike didn't like Angel. She didn't like Angel. But Spike had invited him here. Guess I should open the door, she thought.  
  
"Hi," Angel said from the doorway. Dawn and Angel were standing exactly  
  
opposite each other. One in. One out. "Can I come in?" Angel asked,  
  
feeling that he *just* might have been disinvited.  
  
"Uh, yeah," Dawn said, shaking her head as if to clear it and stepping  
  
aside. Angel stepped into the house quietly.  
  
"Where's Buffy?" Angel asked, looking down at Dawn. He needed to talk to Buffy now. He needed to know what was going on.  
  
"She.. she's upstairs," Dawn stuttered. The rest of the crowd was watching the awkward show wordlessly from their audience in the living room.  
  
"Can I?" Angel asked, gesturing at the stairs. Xander's eyes grew wide as he looked at Dawn. Dawn smirked. Something she had learned from Spike.  
  
"Sure," she answered, nodding up the steps and starting back toward the  
  
couch.  
  
*****  
  
Angel quietly stalked the hall, peering in doorways, looking for her.  
  
Buffy's door was closed, but the door next to it was open and the light  
  
shone brightly into the hall. Angel walked to the doorway, preparing a  
  
chipper and sweet reunion remark in his head when he was stopped in his  
  
tracks. There was Spike, holding a pretty little blonde child, his face  
  
buried in her tender neck.  
  
*****  
  
Spike stood against the crib, trying to control his emotions. God, I don't want to leave, he thought. He turned from the window and Emma struggled sleepily towards his neck, latching onto the hem of his shirt. She smelled so sweet. He closed his eyes, pressing his cheek to hers, smelling her sweet vanilla and baby scented skin. Any time without her would prove to be too long.  
  
*****  
  
Angel launched from the doorway, stopping just short of the blond Vampire. "Put her down," Angel hissed, as Spike was startled to attention. Slowly, Spike set the baby softly into the crib. Angel watched in confused horror at the tenderness with which his grandson handled the baby. Especially after what he just saw.  
  
The minute the baby was safely down, Angel grabbed Spike's collar, throwing him hard against the wall. Spike's jaw shook, he hit the wood with such force. "Spike, I can't believe you'd...a baby?"  
  
Spike reeled, the shock of being knocked into the wall and the confusing  
  
slur of words spilling from his grandsire's lips. 'What?"  
  
" I should kill you now," Angel hissed, pulling a stake from his pocket and pushing it to Spike's chest. Emma began to wail in the background, waking up and hearing the commotion.  
  
Buffy came down the hall at a jog, bolting into Emma's room and surveying the scene. Look right, Emma screaming her head off in the crib. Look left. Oh.. "What the *hell* are you doing?" Buffy screeched, diving at Angel and pulling him off of Spike. Spike dropped to his feet, shrugging his shoulders as if finding his way back into his skin. The shock of it all was being quickly replaced by anger.  
  
"He was... his head was in her neck. He was trying to bite the little girl, " Angel stammered.  
  
"What?" Buffy asked. Her face was a mixture of shock and amusement.  
  
"Spike wouldn't do that!" Buffy said to Angel, mostly in amusement. Spike smiled smugly at Angel.  
  
"Buffy, I saw him. His head was in her neck. He was going to bite her."  
  
"Angel, he wouldn't," Buffy repeated, releasing Angel but keeping a hand on each of them. Just in case. She glanced quickly over at the crib where Emma was still wailing. Spike began to move toward the baby but Angel shot a hand out. Buffy lifted his arm off of Spike and he shook again, trying to knock down the demon before the battle was on.  
  
"Buffy," Angel said, in his most patronizing tone. "You don't know Spike like I do. You don't know what he's capable of..."  
  
"Angel," Buffy sighed, letting them both go. "Spike won't hurt Emma," she said simply. "She's.." Emma let out an impassioned scream and startled Buffy into action. Buffy spun toward the crib, Spike following behind. "Spike, will you take this downstairs? I need to get her calmed down."  
  
Spike looked at her for a moment, not wanting her to be upset with him.  
  
He'd kept his mouth shut. Not to mention he wanted to be there for Emma.  
  
"Spike, please. I know this is not your fault. But you need to get him out of here while I get her settled down."  
  
"Right," Spike said, a little dejected.  
  
"I'll be down in just a minute, OK?" Buffy said quietly, sliding her hand on top of his. Angel watched in confused horror. "Angel, why don't you go down to the kitchen with Spike. I'll be down in a minute." Angel nodded, turning toward the door. "It's alright, Spike," Buffy said, picking up the screaming baby. He touched the little girl's head and turned to go.  
  
*****  
  
"Alright, mind telling me what the hell is going on here?" Angel asked as Spike walked into the kitchen behind him.  
  
"Keep your bloody voice down," Spike snapped," Never know who's listening." Spike was silent for a moment. "Niblet, not nice to eavesdrop," he called, knowing she was hiding behind the doorway to the kitchen.  
  
"Sorry," she called timidly, knowing she was caught. Spike could hear her shoes drag along the dining room floor in retreat.  
  
"Have I stepped into some Alternate Sunnydale? Since when are you in on the whole Scooby scene and hanging out in Buffy's house and... where did Buffy get a baby?" Angel babbled in a half whisper sounding both ticked off and completely lost in the same breath.  
  
"Emma's hers," Spike answered, "and I have an... understanding.. with the rest of them."  
  
"And Buffy? Have an understanding with her too?" Angel was obviously on the attack now.  
  
"Of sorts," Spike answered, smiling a bit and turning toward the counter. "Don't really have time to go through all this right now. Buffy will have to fill you in on the details. Up to her. I called you because of the mite. She's important." Spike swung back around toward the older vampire, leaning his back against the countertop, trying to suss out how much Angel had put together.  
  
"Important how?"  
  
'Because she's my flesh and blood, Wanker,' Spike thought. "She's a Chosen One."  
  
"Slayer?"  
  
"No," Spike answered, drawing out the word, "The Peacemaker."  
  
"The Peacemaker's a myth," Angel fired back, giving Spike the 'What are you? Stupid? smile'.  
  
"Fraid not Poof. Peacemaker's Buffy's daughter. As.I.Said, no time for all the details. You'll have to get the long version from her. Important part, prophesy says that a vamp means to hurt the tot in her sixth month of existence, which starts in about a day. I mean to suss out who this big shot is and take care of him. Need you to watch out for my girls while I'm gone." Spike rambled, not really paying attention to any of the words that tumbled from his lips.  
  
"*Your* girls?" Angel asked, smirking at Spike. Spike was quiet. Something clicked in Angel's head. Nah, had to be an obsessive little slip from the peroxide drama boy. Still, " Spike," Angel asked, "you going to tell me how Buffy came to have a baby?"  
  
"Woulda thought you knew where babies came from after all these years,  
  
Poof," Spike snarked back.  
  
"Who's the father, Spike? Some guy come through, love her and leave her and leave her and you decide that's a perfect time to snake your way in and take advantage?"  
  
Spike's blood began to boil. What was I thinking bringing him here? What was Giles thinking? What was Buffy thinking when she *let* me? Too late now. "No," Spike answered simply, controlling the demon again. It was getting harder by the moment.  
  
"Then what?" Angel asked. "I just can't see Buffy letting you in her  
  
house, anywhere *near* her child, if she didn't feel like she owed you  
  
something. What? Rush in to save the day? Steal some Pampers for her?  
  
Come on, Spike. She's better than you. What's your angle?"  
  
Spike's rage boiled, but he stood firm, face to face with his grandsire,  
  
resolved to not give Angel the satisfaction. "Seems to me," Spike began  
  
coldly, "you did a fair bit of running out when it comes to Buffy."  
  
"That's none of your business, Spike."  
  
"It *is*," Spike hissed. "You hurt her. Got a chance to make it up.  
  
You're going to make sure nothing happens to that baby. Not a sodding  
  
*scratch* on her pretty little head." Spike's anger was starting to get the better of him, but he didn't move toward Angel and strangely enough, his face never changed.  
  
"I'll help," Angel responded, sharply," for Buffy. But I want to know what you're stake in this is. What can the Peacemaker do for old Spike? What's in it for you?"  
  
"She's.My.Daughter." Spike raged, tossing Angel against the wall and  
  
holding him by his collar. The look on Angel's face was a mixture of  
  
confusion, shock, disbelief, and, surprisingly, guilt.  
  
"Yours?" Angel gasped, dangling from Spike's grip. Spike loosened, dropping Angel back to his feet.  
  
"Mine," Spike growled. "I gave her the one thing you couldn't give her.  
  
Well, make that the two things, being that I actually love her and stuck  
  
around."  
  
Angel reeled from the sting of Spike's words, but wrapping his mind around the concept was even more of a problem. "How?" Angel mumbled, still dazed by what he had just heard.  
  
"No time for that," Spike answered, waving off the question. "In or out? It's a bloody simple question."  
  
"In," Angel responded, wide eyed. Spike's shoulders dropped and he relaxed.  
  
"Don't have to understand," Spike began, calmly, "but I love them. Buffy and Emma. Couldn't go off and leave them without any help. I don't want you here, but I know you'll watch out for Emma for Buffy's sake. Don't care much why you do it, just that you do."  
  
"I will," Angel muttered.  
  
"I need to go speak to Buffy," Spike said, turning toward the door. "Then we will leave for patrol. If she's not back here by one, I want you to go after her. Other than that, just stay here. If they aren't in the house now, they don't come in the house. Ever."  
  
"Right," Angel whispered, nodding.  
  
"And try not to hurt her again," Spike said, "Or I won't hesitate to turn you into the contents of an ashtray before you can re gel your hair." Spike walked from the kitchen, leaving Angel reeling against the kitchen wall.  
  
*****  
  
Spike walked into Emma's room. Buffy and Dawn were leaning over the crib, talking softly. They were watching Emma and each other at the same time. The floor creaked almost imperceptibly as Spike stepped into the room. Dawn looked up, touched Buffy's arm, and began to make her way out of the room. Spike caught Dawn's wrist as she passed.  
  
"Look out for them," he whispered in the teenager's ear. She nodded,  
  
feeling the tears start to fall.  
  
"You're coming back, right?" Dawn asked, her voice shaking a bit.  
  
"Of course, Niblet." Dawn wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to the Vampire. "When you get back, what say we start a little training," Spike said to the girl. Dawn pulled away and looked at him wide eyed. "If you're going to be around bads all the time, should know how to fight."  
  
"But Buffy?"  
  
"I'll square it with your sis. Between us for now, right?" Dawn nodded. "Now, off with ya," he said, brushing her hair back and patting her shoulder. She quietly slid into the hall.  
  
Spike walked across the room to Buffy. She was dressed and ready, but her hands clung to the bars of the crib with white knuckles. Spike put one hand on the small of her back and pulled Emma's blanket up with the other. Buffy was silent.  
  
"He knows, Pet. Not everything. But about Emma. I was going to let you tell him. It was up to you, but.."  
  
"No," Buffy answered, "It's good you told him."  
  
Spike cocked his head, looking at her. "You sure?"  
  
"I don't owe him any explanations, Spike." Buffy turned back towards Spike, a little teary eyed, but resolute. He couldn't help but drink her in. So pretty, he thought.  
  
"Why, Buffy? Is it just because.. because I stayed?" Spike asked. As much as he loved her, he could not help but feel... scared of losing her. Particularly with Angel here.  
  
"No," She answered. "I'm glad you did stay. But I love you," she said  
  
simply. "Just promise me you won't make me regret I said that."  
  
"I'll be back, Love. Just a few days. Week or two at most."  
  
"Promise me, Spike."  
  
" I swear it," he whispered, taking her hands in his. He found the ring he had given to her and pushed it back and forth with his thumb. She never had switched it from her left hand. "I made a promise to a lady." He was silent for a moment. " I love you. Always."  
  
"Every day?"  
  
"Every day," he repeated, kissing her nose.  
  
"You know that I love you too."  
  
" I know," he said softly. But I still like it when you say it, he thought. "Now," Spike said, stiffening, "this just won't do. We're going to hafta put on quite a show. Hafta find your motivation. What are we going to be mad about today?" he grumped, pushing Buffy softly.  
  
"Kinda forgot a lot of the reasons that I hated you," Buffy answered,  
  
looking at the ceiling.  
  
"Evil, soulless, thing springs to mind," Spike snarked.  
  
"Oh, there's *that*," Buffy said sarcastically. "So, what did you do to get me angry this time?"  
  
"Why's it always have to be me?" he complained.  
  
"Evil, soulless, thing," she joked back.  
  
"Right," Spike responded, nodding, his hand on his chin, pensively. "Well, hypothetically speaking, of course, what could I do that'd make you furious?"  
  
"Leave the toilet seat up," Buffy chirped.  
  
"Hafta do better than that, Pet. I think that the Vampire's might wonder about us if you kick me out and I want to destroy you over the toilet seat."  
  
"Alright," Buffy said, the wheels turning in her mind. "Feed."  
  
"Feed it is," he answered. " I attacked some poor helpless lass and you  
  
caught me. That'll do."  
  
"In front of Emma."  
  
"Ouch," Spike said," but if it works to make you angry, then so be it. Just keep somewhere in your pretty head that it's not real."  
  
"That'll do it and I will."  
  
"Once I get in, I'll leave whatever information that I can find in the  
  
basement of the Magic Box. Where the burba weed is."  
  
"Anya will be mad that you are steeling burba weed again," Buffy joked.  
  
"I'll pay her back. Check there every day, alright?"  
  
"Right," she answered nodding, her blonde pony tail bobbing behind her.  
  
"And don't come *near* me at night. If we run into each other, we'll have to fight and it'll have to look good."  
  
"But I like fighting you," she said, smiling slyly.  
  
"Ah, but no after fight," Spike whispered, pulling her close, almost purring the words into her ear.  
  
"No fun," she whispered, her eyes closing.  
  
"Exactly. Avoid it," Spike continued, nibbling at her ear.  
  
"*Not* helping," Buffy huffed, pushing him softly.  
  
"Sorry, Love," he replied, straightening, his eyes glazed over with desire. The smell of her, just being so close to her... "You ready?" he asked, taking a deep breath.  
  
"No," Buffy answered, "but I'll go. Don't get all... deader.. on me."  
  
"Right," Spike responded. "Mind my girl?"  
  
"Yeah." Buffy sweetly smiled at him. The way he looked at their daughter was almost heartbreakingly beautiful.  
  
"Have a minute?" Spike asked, gesturing toward the crib.  
  
"Sure." Buffy stepped back, watching Spike lean over and hearing him whisper words she couldn't make out. But there was no mistaking the soft kiss he placed on Emma's forehead. Buffy couldn't help but smile at him when he walked back to her side. He took her hand and led her out the door.  
  
To be contd. 


	6. Bad Words

Title: Bad Words (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 6)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: Buffy and Spike are forced to separate, but now Angel's in the mix. How do they manage?  
  
Author's Note: For the purposes of this story, Angel had a son, however the son was taken and has not been returned to him. Just a frame of reference!  
  
Bad Words  
  
"So why in bloody hell did you drag me along on your little single minded quest to destroy my race, Buffy?" Spike barbed, as they strutted angrily through the graveyard, an unnaturally large distance between them. Spike had picked up on the young, dark haired vamp in the shadows almost as soon as Buffy had stepped off the curb in front of their house. They had been at the unusually vicious arguing since.  
  
"You might as well be of some use," Buffy huffed in her coldest voice. Just the sound of it brought back countless tortured memories for Spike.  
  
"Not what you were saying last night, Pet."  
  
"You're a pig, Spike. Why did I ever think anything different?" Buffy  
  
strode several strides in front of her counterpart. He jogged a few steps and grabbed her shoulders, spinning her towards him.  
  
"Not my fault that you thought I was anything *but* a Vampire, Buffy. What did you honestly think, Pet? I'd turn into a sodding Nancy Boy, Mr. Mom? If you spent half the time on your brat that you do on yourself and your little useless friends, you might qualify as adequate."  
  
"And if you didn't *eat* people in front of her, " Buffy screamed, pushing him hard into a tombstone, "you might qualify as acceptable." The force of the body slam into cold granite shook him. The words; those were another story.  
  
"What'd ya think, Love? Man's gotta eat. Not going to make it on pig's  
  
blood and peanut butter forever. You haven't made a decent meal in...  
  
forever."  
  
"But I didn't eat anyone in front of my daughter," she sobbed, tears coming down. Buffy had talked herself into this. God, don't start crying, Spike thought. Just stay mad.  
  
"You know she's half demon, Buffy. What're you gonna do if she ends up like me?"  
  
"At least she has a soul!"  
  
"Bugger off, bi**h," Spike hissed. Buffy involuntarily kicked him hard in the chest. It was better than the tears. Could never bear to see her cry.  
  
"*Never*," Buffy said, angrily, "*never* come near my house or *my*  
  
daughter, again. If you do, I'll dust you myself." She was leaning over him, rage in her eyes.  
  
"You couldn't do it, Pet," Spike answered, smiling smugly.  
  
"Try me," she quipped, a stake appearing from out of thin air into her tiny hand. Where the hell?, Spike thought, a tinge of panic spreading like an electric shock under his skin. Buffy jabbed the point into the flesh over his heart. "If I ever see you near her again, you *will* disappear. Forever." She was so close to him, her scent catching in his nose. Her teary eyes making his heart ache. He closed his eyes and swallowed.  
  
"Good riddance," Spike forced himself to say with as much coldness as he  
  
could muster. Buffy pulled the stake away and stomped off. "Hope you and the sodding hell spawn have a nice little life of torture."  
  
"Anything's better than you," Buffy called back, never turning around.  
  
*****  
  
Tears streamed down Buffy's face as she dragged herself back through her  
  
front door. Angel was standing next to the stairway, shrugging on his coat.  
  
"Buffy, I was just coming to.... you alright?"  
  
"I...I..." she stuttered, holding up her hand and fleeing up the stairs, two at a time.  
  
****  
  
Spike poured a tall drink. Blood and whiskey. Clem had stocked well. All there was left to do was wait. He inspected the tiny hole in his shirt where Buffy had pressed the stake and the spot of blood underneath. Nothing compared to the hole inside, he thought.  
  
*****  
  
Buffy pulled the tiny, sleeping child out of the crib so gently she thought her heart might break. This was wrong. They shouldn't have to be apart. They should never be apart. There'd been enough apart. Apart was never easy and finding their way back proved always harder. She eased into the recliner, trying to control the hitching breaths before she woke Emma.  
  
Buffy knew it had all been an act, but the reminder of her past cruelty was torturous. Even worse that the foul words he spat at her. She knew she had enough faith in Spike, knew him well enough to understand that he didn't mean those things... that she wasn't a bad mother, that Emma wasn't hell spawn, that he didn't mean good riddance. The thing about cooking, maybe. But God, after all the things she had thrown at him over the years, first out of hatred, then out of her own fear that she had fallen in love with the one... man.. she shouldn't, what reason did he have to believe her? Or not to, in this case.  
  
Buffy clutched the sleeping baby closer, rubbing her cheek against the  
  
child's impossibly soft head. He knew, right? He had to know.  
  
A knock drew Buffy from her thoughts. "Hey," Angel said softly, stepping through the doorway.  
  
"Hi," Buffy whispered, trying to brush tears off of her face with one hand. " I know you have a lot of questions, but I'm..."  
  
"I don't need to know," Angel interrupted. Buffy looked at him strangely. " I mean, you can tell me what you want, when you want to, but you don't have to."  
  
Buffy was grateful. Just didn't have it in her tonight. Emma shifted,  
  
turning her sleeping face toward Angel.  
  
"You have a beautiful little girl," Angel said, touching Emma's silky blonde hair. "You know that I..."  
  
"Cordelia had called when..." Buffy interrupted, seeing the pain in his dark features. Funny, when she looked at him now, she still felt something, but it was a very different something. Like looking at a picture of some wonderful family outing. You still care about the memory, but you don't have any need to go back. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"Yeah," Angel replied, softly. "Changes things. Changes everything."  
  
"It does," Buffy agreed. "Makes everything more complicated, but more  
  
simple at the same time."  
  
"I know," Angel answered. He was lost in his own thoughts.  
  
"Everyone asleep?" Buffy asked. Needed to change the subject.  
  
"Dawn's out like a light. Tara is crashed in your room, but said she'd move if you changed your mind. I'm fine on the couch. Xander and Anya went home."  
  
"Where's Will?"  
  
"Not sure," Angel replied thoughtfully. "I didn't see her leave, though."  
  
"She's probably... oh, " Buffy said, smiling a little. Forgiveness could feel really good.  
  
"You need anything?" Angel asked, backing out of the room.  
  
"Nothing. I'm set." Buffy replied, snuggling into her little girl. 'At least nothing you can give me, unless you can magically produce a certain peroxide someone and leave us alone', she thought.  
  
"G'nite."  
  
"Nite."  
  
*****  
  
The television flickered as he took another slug from his drink. Didn't  
  
even know what was on. Couldn't go to sleep. Couldn't stay awake. Did she know I was only... pretending?, he thought. She's a great mum to the tot, better than I ever expected. Emma's straight outta heaven, not some horrid demon spawn. Buffy had to know *that*. And 'Good Riddance'? What in bloody hell was I thinking? Never had it so good on either side of life or the spaces in between.  
  
The cooking part I might have meant, he mentally amended.  
  
Spike flicked off the telly and made his way down to the bed. He stripped off his clothes and stretched against the sheets, rolling every way, trying to find a comfortable spot. No small warm body to wrap around. No vanilla face and apple hair. No skin that twitched every time he moved against her in the most delightful ways. No comfort. No rest.  
  
*****  
  
"Gwydion?" Simon called as he rushed into his master's sitting room.  
  
Gwydion stood in front of an oak end table near the bay window. He gestured at the phone as he finished speaking, then clicked the receiver into the cradle.  
  
"What is it, Simon?" Gwydion asked pleasantly.  
  
"The Slayer she... she expelled the Traitor. Told him she'd kill him if he ever came back. She tried to *stake* him. He's angry, Gwydion, very angry."  
  
"Good, Simon," the older Vampire responded.  
  
"Should I go fetch him? Bring him to you? He may know how to get to the child..." Simon had the enthusiasm of a ten year old with his first two wheel bike.  
  
"Let's sleep on it, shall we?" Gwydion said, patting the younger vamp's  
  
shoulder. "You did well, Simon. I've chained you a little treat in the  
  
basement. Be good and don't play with your food... much."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Simon answered, bowing his head respectfully and rushing out of the room. Gwydion settled back into the deep velvet chair.  
  
"I wouldn't trust him if I were you," a seductive voice rolled into the room like a summer storm. The dark beauty almost danced through the doorway. "He's covered in her. Always has been. He may think he'll give her up, but he'd burn first."  
  
"My sweet girl," Gwydion said, taking her hand. " I do not trust him." He pulled the girl to his lap. She purred, resting her head on his shoulder. "But we did manage to separate them with Quentin's help. This will make the task at hand that much simpler."  
  
"But he still loves her," the woman hissed, almost in mourning.  
  
"Drusilla, my dear, we will find you a new play toy. One that is not so  
  
broken."  
  
"Do you promise?"  
  
"I'll even let you put an end to Spike, if you'd like."  
  
"Very much," she chirped, clapping her hands together.  
  
"But *I* will make you a new one. Yours rarely turn out well," Gwydion,  
  
said, paternally, as if referring to his child's score on an arithmetic  
  
exam. "Now run along. I've got some calls to make."  
  
"You're always working," she whined, pulling herself gracefully to her feet.  
  
"Not for long, my sweet. Not for long."  
  
To be contd. 


	7. Conversations

Title: Conversations (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 7)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: Buffy and Spike have gone their separate ways in order to enact  
  
Giles's plan, but how do they cope? And how does Buffy react to being alone with her first love?  
  
Conversations  
  
Buffy bounded down the stairs to the basement of the Magic Box. Emma was upstairs being fawned over by Anya who had suddenly decided that all she wanted was her own miniature person, much to Xander's confusion. One moment, Anya was vowing to never speak to Xander again after the first wedding fiasco. The next she was talking about border colours for a baby room and how much, per annum, diapers actually cost.  
  
Buffy rummaged through the shelves, pulling aside mason jar after mason jar of stinky weeds, thinking all the while that if Sunnydale police ever saw this place, they might think Anya the ring leader of a drug cartel.  
  
Finally, she found it, tucked neatly under the burba weed, just where he  
  
promised he would leave it.  
  
She unfolded the square of paper hesitantly. His vampy senses must have  
  
been rubbing off on her because she could smell him, sense him in the slip of parchment. The words were hastily jotted but in an immaculate hand. Buffy tried to remember if she had ever really noticed his handwriting before. Why would she when there were... other things.. to distract her? Crystal blue eyes, those errant curls when he first woke up, the curve of his arms, those statuesque abs.... OK, back to the paper, she thought, trying to stop that annoyingly wonderful tingle that had started at the base of her neck.  
  
"Not safe yet. Need to find out who we're up against.  
  
So you know, I didn't mean any of it.  
  
Great mum. Perfect tot. No riddance of you is ever good.  
  
Maybe about the cooking but there's always hope.  
  
I love you.  
  
Always."  
  
"Every day," she answered, smiling. Quickly, she jotted those words on the corner of the paper, tearing it off and leaving it where he'd find it. Buffy pushed the reminder deep in her jeans pocket and trotted back up the stairs.  
  
*****  
  
"Argh. What in bloody hell do I do until dark?" Spike traipsed frustrated around the crypt. He had managed to put his jeans on but had stopped there for lack of motivation. "Woman even screwed up the sleeping thing. Vampires sleep in the day," he muttered as if reminding himself what it was to be a bad boy. He flopped down in the musty chair and flicked on the telly. "Can't even sleep at night without her." He smiled, thinking of her curled between his chest and legs, pressed against him. "Guess I'm not much of a Vampire anymore."  
  
Spike found himself thinking about Emma. Knew how much he'd miss Buffy.  
  
Went without her far too many times before. But never been away since the tot came round. A whole new hole opened in his heart. He missed the feeling of her weight in his arms, the smell of clean baby skin and vanilla. Like her mum that way. How when she fell asleep against him, her head always thudded against his chest in complete surrender. How she trusted him absolutely. Only one who'd ever done that. Though Buffy had come round nicely.  
  
"What the hell do I do all day?" he grumped, shaking the thoughts to the back of his mind. He flicked though the channels like an armchair  
  
quarterback on a Sunday afternoon. "Ooh, Passions," he almost squealed,  
  
settling in. "Wonder what Timmy's been up to."  
  
*****  
  
"Angel, over there!" Buffy screamed, staking one vamp and spinning into the next. Angel had been out of day to day combat for far too long. He still had the skills, but he kept stopping after each one as if it were the last.  
  
L.A. must be lame, she thought.  
  
Angel took out the last one, really, this time and turned back to Buffy.  
  
Much more fun with Spike, she thought. "Well, that was interesting," he  
  
commented as she began down the footpath back to the house.  
  
"Welcome back to the Hellmouth," Buffy quipped. She was trying to be  
  
comfortable around him, but it wasn't coming easy. She felt exposed. Like her back was open in battle and her wounds were raw in her heart.  
  
"Busy night?" Angel asked.  
  
"Bout average," she answered, staying a few steps ahead. "At least for the last few weeks."  
  
"Busy girl."  
  
"I have help," she answered almost defensively. Angel went silent. Buffy slowed, allowing him to catch up. They walked in silence, side by side to the house.  
  
Buffy stopped, sitting down on the stoop. Angel lowered beside her. Front steps only. Back steps were taken.  
  
"Angel, I know this is ... weird."  
  
"Yeah," he muttered. "You love him?" Angel asked. He knew it was to the point, but he needed to hear it. Love was not something Buffy gave away easily. At least not since him.  
  
"Yes," she answered resolutely, turning toward him, looking him in the eye.  
  
"I guess he's changed a lot since... well, you know, with the heart and  
  
all..."  
  
"How did you...?" Buffy stuttered, remembering Spike told her he had only explained about Emma.  
  
"Vampire," Angel said, nodding.  
  
"Right," Buffy responded, nodding back and smiling softly. Duh, she  
  
thought. "But I fell in love with him before that." Angel looked at her for a long moment. "Guess you don't have the whole timeline. Emma... happened... before that."  
  
"You mean?"  
  
Buffy sat silently for a moment. She knew that this conversation would  
  
happen. She knew she would one-day end up sitting next to Angel having to explain the how's and the why's of what had happened between her and Spike. When Buffy really thought about it, she didn't *have* to at all. There were no explanations owed. Angel himself had said she did not have to explain.  
  
Suddenly, it dawned on her that she wanted to. "It started... wrong,"  
  
Buffy began. "They brought me back and no one understood..."  
  
She explained about Heaven and what it was like to be brought back. About how it made her feel, or not feel as the case may be. The brightness of it all. How she couldn't bring herself to tell her friends, except for Spike. That Spike had tried to help her. He listened and understood, but she felt even worse knowing that the only... thing... she could confide in was an evil soulless Vampire.  
  
Angel smirked at that.  
  
Buffy went on to explain that despite her disdain, she kept going back to Spike. Kept seeing him everywhere and telling him all of the dark little secrets of her existence. Even though she hated him, he was the only one that really understood. And she realized she really didn't hate him anymore. Which made her hate herself more. So she pushed him away.  
  
Then she explained how *it* started.  
  
Buffy sighed. "Spike found out he could hit me. Something happened when I came back and well, I didn't register with his chip. We started fighting and it felt..."  
  
"Good?"  
  
She shook her head. "It felt," she said simply. "I really don't know how it happened, but we fought and it sparked something and I... it ended up... differently."  
  
"Differently?"  
  
"The fisty parts became the feisty parts."  
  
"Ah," Angel nodded in understanding, almost blushing. He didn't want to  
  
hear this. Not from her. None of this from her. This was Buffy. *His* Buffy. He was torn between feeling like he should have been there for her and wanting to run again. That when she came to see him after she came back, he should have come back with her and helped her through it. But he didn't, did he? Because he didn't understand.  
  
The rest of him wanted to run even now. Spike had succeeded where he had failed. He had gotten through to Buffy, captured her heart, believed himself into being because he loved her. Still, Angel did not want to hear this.  
  
"It was the only time I felt anything... when I was with him. But I hated him for it. Which really was pretty horrible of me."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I knew he loved me and I couldn't love him back. Not then." Buffy tried to explain that she couldn't love him because of what he was. Her narrow-minded view of good and evil, which had served her well for so long, had become... gray. There was no place for gray in her world. It didn't mean she *didn't* love him even then. It was more that she felt she was wrong to love him.  
  
"So I tried to break it off. It hurt more than it should've. He left for a while. Managed to get the chip out. But it didn't change him. He came back in the middle of a hell storm caused by some...pokey demon."  
  
"Pokey demon?" Angel chuckled.  
  
"Some venom injecty thing. Made me jump back and forth in time."  
  
"Always fun."  
  
"Yeah," she chuckled. "And that's when I found out that I..."  
  
"Defied all laws of science and theology?"  
  
"That about sums it up," she said, smiling and dusting her hands.  
  
"And everything has been puppies and rainbows since?" Angel asked.  
  
Buffy laughed heartily. "Ha! No. But I need a shower and I have a date with my daughter, so can we save chapter two for another night?" she asked, standing up. Angel grabbed her hand as she stepped toward the door. She turned her head, looking down at him.  
  
"Buffy, are you... happy... now?"  
  
She smiled at him. " I think I'm happier now than I have ever been."  
  
*****  
  
Spike stood in the shadows at the corner, just out of direct sight of the house. The unlit cigarette dangled between his lips as he watched her walk in silence next to Angel. This hurts, he thought. Poofter's on patrol with my Slayer, sleeping in our house, near our baby. Not right. Bloody Wanker.  
  
He watched her sit softly on the porch. Front porch. Oh, so don't have to hide with the nancy boy. Get a grip, he thought, rummaging in his pocket and producing a tiny slip of paper. "Every day," he read. Poofter doesn't have a chance.  
  
Buffy was giggling, looking at Angel with those innocent doe eyes of hers, her hands fluttering like butterflies in her lap. Her pretty lips moving, her shiny hair lit like a halo by the porch light. Even from a distance, she could get a rise. Don't like that somber 'pity me' look he's givin' her though. And I was the snake in the grass, he thought.  
  
Spike watched her stand up, leaving him there. Good girl. He smirked.  
  
Then Angel grabbed her hand. Spike involuntarily lurched forward. Don't think I ever said anything bout touching her, his mind snapped at Angel.  
  
His anger rose. Or was it jealousy? One of those seven deadly. Buffy said something and walked off. Spike relaxed. Good girl. Inside he sighed. All that was left on the porch was the bloody great Poof, brooding in the night.  
  
A voice from behind him startled him out of his thoughts. "Need a light?"  
  
To be contd. 


	8. Three Vampires

Title: Three Vampires(The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt8)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: Spike finally makes contact with the vampires who are after his daughter. He also sneaks a little contact with Buffy. The hinge of  
  
Gwydion's plan is revealed.  
  
Three Vampires  
  
  
  
"Need a light?" The voice in the behind him asked from the darkness.  
  
Spike's hair stood on end as he spun toward the sound. His defenses kicked in and his mind reeled. Too bloody close to my girls, he thought. Not even paying attention enough to notice. The young, dark haired vamp produced a polished silver lighter from his trouser pocket.  
  
"Right," Spike answered, pinching the cigarette between his thumb and  
  
forefinger as the vampire flicked the lighter. Spike sucked softly until the tip was glowing blood red.  
  
"So, *you're* the lucky vampire," the dark haired boy said.  
  
"Lucky?" Spike chuckled.  
  
"Got a heart and the daywalk. Killed two slayers and then fell in love with the third. Even have a child with her."  
  
"Seem to know a lot about me," Spike commented, annoyed, blowing smoke at the young vamp.  
  
"Sorry," he said, holding out his hand, "Simon."  
  
"Well, *Simon*, seems you got it all wrong," Spike replied coldly, ignoring Simon's hand.  
  
"What do you mean? You're a legend," the boy said. He wasn't a very good liar. Spike knew this was the little monster that had trailed him and Buffy on their last night together. The peroxide vamp sized up his stalker. Know thine enemy.  
  
Simon had been turned at about twenty, from the looks of things. English, meaning chances were he was a minion of the master vampire. Polished. Educated. Looked as if he'd come from a well off family. Smelled as if he couldn't have been turned more than twenty years past. Spike decided to play the game, but he was going to hold the aces.  
  
"First off," Spike said in his best big bad air, puffing at the cigarette and removing it from his lips in a James Dean flourish, "It's no great stroke of luck to have the old heart and lungs back. Sort of puts a crimp in the vampire style."  
  
"But I thought you wanted..." Simon returned.  
  
"You have no idea what I want," Spike hissed, grabbing the young demon's  
  
throat. Good, the appropriate look of fright crossed the boy's face. Spike smiled smugly. Least he could still play a good bad.  
  
"Why...why don't you tell me?" Simon stuttered. Spike dropped the boy  
  
unceremoniously.  
  
"No great gift of the gods to be saddled with the Slayer and her rat tyke either. Enough to make me want to stake myself," Spike continued  
  
dramatically, shrugging his duster around his shoulders.  
  
"But the stories say that you're love for her..."  
  
"Love?" Spike asked, a monologue of epic proportions in his voice. The  
  
drama never ceases. Maybe just the short version. " Nothing but a curse. We don't love like they do, blokes like us. Think we might, but we don't."  
  
"Then..why..?"  
  
"Don't remember telling you to ask me about the story of my sodding unlife," Spike huffed. Simon was silent.  
  
"So, why are you here? Watching her?"  
  
Spike took a long drag from the cigarette. He gestured at the porch.  
  
"Didn't take the b***h long to move on, did it?"  
  
"Angel," Simon sighed.  
  
"How do you know Angel?" Spike snapped, reaching for Simon's throat again. Simon threw up his hands defensively.  
  
"E...everyone knows Angel. Vampire cursed with a soul?"  
  
"So, you get your rocks off studying up on freakish vampires?" Spike  
  
snarked.  
  
"Curiosity," Simon answered mildly.  
  
"I wanna do the Slayer in. Done with her whining, her self-righteous  
  
attitude, her nasty temper. Shoulda killed her when I had the chance."  
  
Spike took the final drag off the cigarette, trying to kill the taste of  
  
those words in his mouth. He crushed the remainder under the heel of his boot.  
  
"What about the child?" Simon asked.  
  
"Don't care one way or the other. Child's meaningless to me. Leave her  
  
without the Slayer, she's as good as dead anyway." Spike forced the words from his lips. Of course, you'll have to go through me to get to either of them, mate, he thought.  
  
Again, Simon was silent for a long time. They watched Angel get up from the porch and walk slowly into the house. " I think I can help you," Simon whispered.  
  
"Help me? Don't need your bloody help," Spike snapped.  
  
"No. You don't *need* it. But you might be wise to have it."  
  
"What do you mean?" Spike asked, turning toward the boy.  
  
"Your interests, and those of my employer, are much the same."  
  
"I'd like to meet your employer," Spike said coldly. And sever his bloody head, he added in his mind.  
  
"I'm afraid that's not possible. Not yet," Simon answered, shuffling his feet.  
  
"Not interested," Spike replied simply, turning back toward the house.  
  
"Well, think about it," Simon added calmly. "I'll find you in a night or two. If you still don't want his assistance, we'll just... leave you alone."  
  
"Yeah, right," Spike answered, waving the boy off. Simon stepped back into the darkness and turned to go.  
  
*****  
  
Buffy rooted through the mason jars again, listening to the thick glass hiss against dusty wood. She wished this game were over. The only things getting her through were Emma and Dawn. Angel had mostly kept his distance. That awkwardness was almost as bad as the first few nights of endless explanations.  
  
The paper was bigger this time. She fetched it from the mason jar and  
  
hoisted herself onto the counter's edge, unfolding it and setting it on her lap. Same strong hand, but the note was all business today. Well dressed, dark haired, young vamp called Simon.... What kind of name is Simon for a Big Bad? Buffy thought. Reading on. Oh, not the big bad. Little bad. Still... Simon? A vision of singing chipmunks wandered through her head. Near the house. Spike was near the house? When? Minion of the master vampire. Supposed to meet with Simon tonight. Have more information tomorrow.  
  
The last two sentences made Buffy smile.  
  
"Check early tomorrow and bring Emma. If it's safe, I'll leave  
  
word to meet me."  
  
"YAY!" She chirped happily, bracing herself to hop off the counter. Strong hands latched onto her hips, stopping her leap.  
  
A sharp twinge of fear shot down her spine, setting all of her muscles into fiery motion, until she felt soft lips against the skin of her neck. Buffy craned her head enough to see his blonde hair pressed softly between her shoulder and throat and feel his lips rather than teeth, tracing her skin.  
  
He kissed his way softly to her ear. "Shhh," he hushed, his breath blowing on all too sensitive skin. Buffy quietly turned until they were face to face. Spike gestured a finger to his lips and she nodded, taking his face in her hands.  
  
Buffy wanted to tell him that she missed him. That she loved him. She  
  
pulled his face to hers and let her lips brush softly against his. She felt him smile as her tongue ran over the corners of his mouth and she gently sucked in his bottom lip. Spike pulled her forward on the counter, hands still clinging to her hips, her dangling legs wrapping loosely around his waist. The kiss deepened, his tongue dancing with hers, her breath catching in his throat, her soft palms still pressed sweetly against his cheeks.  
  
Spike pulled away and looked at her, tracing every contour, every colour, ever blush into his memory. The way her hair fell loosely like golden silk around her face, and how her eyes sparkled even in darkness. Her lips swollen and freshly kissed. That might begin to get him through the night.  
  
Spike leaned forward, pressing his lips to her ear. She tilted her head  
  
softly, closing her eyes.  
  
"No time. Just needed to see you. You know I love you, Pet."  
  
Her face pressed to his. Cheek to cheek. "I know," Buffy whispered.  
  
"Can't take much more," she continued. Words laced with sadness and desire.  
  
"Close, Pet, soon," Spike answered. "Emma, OK?"  
  
Buffy nodded, her face brushing deliciously against his cheek.  
  
"Are you?"  
  
"Miss you," she said softly. "Love you."  
  
Spike pulled away to look at her again, brushing her hair from her face with gentle fingers.  
  
"Buffy?" Xander called from the top of the steps. Spike touched her face one last time and disappeared.  
  
*****  
  
"This came for you," Simon said, handing a box to Gwydion. "From the  
  
Council?"  
  
"From Quentin," Gwydion corrected, setting the wooden box on the heavy oak table.  
  
"What's inside?  
  
"A talisman," Gwydion replied, running nimble, elegant fingers over the  
  
wood, but not opening the box.  
  
"What sort?" Simon asked, stepping forward, hands outstretched.  
  
"The sort," Gwydion replied, grabbing Simon's wrist hard enough that it  
  
almost snapped, "that none should play with."  
  
"N...no sir. I would never..." Simon stuttered.  
  
"Good," Gwydion replied, slipping almost too easily back to calmness.  
  
"W..what does it do?"  
  
"On the proper day, it makes the world forget the wearer is a vampire. It changes the rules."  
  
"How?" Simon asked, in childlike wonder.  
  
"A spell. It is only temporary, my boy, but while it lasts the wearer is, by all accounts, human."  
  
"But wouldn't that...what about the strength? Senses?"  
  
"I shan't imagine that destroying the child should take much strength, nor will finding her when the Slayer is not expecting a threat."  
  
"What about the Slayer? The Souled one?" Simon asked. Spike was on their side, right?  
  
"In due time, Simon," Gwydion answered, "it will all make perfect sense."  
  
"How long does the spell last?"  
  
"The talisman will be charged at the next full moon and remain so until the new."  
  
"The full moon is.."  
  
"Tomorrow," Gwydion interrupted. "So let's enjoy tonight." The master's hand rested on his protÃ©gÃ©'s shoulder. "It will work, my boy. It will be glorious."  
  
"What about Spike? Shall I bring him here? Tell him?"  
  
"*No*," Gwydion snapped, turning from Simon. "Go to him. Convince him to help us by tracking the Slayer. Report to you on her every move from dusk until dawn. Promise him you will bring him to me, but that now is not the time."  
  
"But he... he won't help us without meeting you," Simon stuttered.  
  
"Be convincing," Gwydion stated, picking up his snifter, twirling the liquid in the glass before sipping.  
  
" I will try," Simon answered, reluctantly.  
  
"If you cannot convince him, I have someone who can," Gwydion said, "but I'd rather not show my hand just yet."  
  
"Yes sir," Simon commented, pulling on his coat.  
  
"And Simon?"  
  
"Yes?" the boy answered, his hand reaching the doorknob.  
  
"Spike mustn't ever see me. Not until this is done. Then he will never  
  
forget my face."  
  
To be contd. 


	9. Dealing

Title: Dealing (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 9)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: Buffy and Spike are faced with making deals they don't want to  
  
make.  
  
Dealing  
  
The knock at the door of the crypt was soft, almost polite. Spike stopped, his duster hanging off of one shoulder. He was just getting ready to go... do something. His first thought, What in bloody hell is she doing here? As he opened the door, it was followed closely by the words, "What in bloody hell are *you* doing here?"  
  
"I thought you may have reconsidered," Simon said quietly.  
  
"Why would I go and do a stupid, sodding thing like that?" Spike hissed, pulling on his coat and leaning into the doorframe.  
  
"Because we want the same thing."  
  
"And what's that?" Spike snapped.  
  
"My employer wants the child dead. You said yourself you wanted to punish the Slayer." Spike had to concentrate on not dismembering the vampire in front of him. No one was touching either of them. But this... horror... is what he was here for.  
  
"Seems as if we have different ideas," Spike said harshly.  
  
"Yes, but to the same end. Not to mention that the rewards are great with my employer."  
  
"Medical? Dental?" Spike snarked, smirking at the boy.  
  
"Power," Simon said wondrously.  
  
"What sort?"  
  
"The sort that changes the rules," Simon answered, slipping into an almost bliss-like state.  
  
"Never said I wanted power. Just the Slayer." That was easier to say. He did want Buffy. Every day.  
  
"And you'll have her," Simon responded, snapping back to reality. "If you help us with the child, we can help you capture and kill the Slayer."  
  
"So, what does this Wanker want from me?" Spike asked, sick of riddles.  
  
Needed information. He lit a cigarette and rested his back against the  
  
doorframe.  
  
"To watch her. He wants to know her every move, her every pattern, from  
  
dusk to dawn."  
  
"I *can* walk in the day," Spike said, trying to bait the boy into giving away something, anything.  
  
"The child is less defended at night. We need to know the Slayer's every move so that we know when to make ours."  
  
Spike thought a moment. What about the Poof? Some nasty little itch in his brain was telling him the boy was lying about something. "Right then. What do I get in return?"  
  
"The Slayer. We can even disable her."  
  
"Don't need her disabled," Spike said, insulted both by the thought and the implication.  
  
"Any way you would like."  
  
"Not enough," Spike snapped, stomping out the cigarette.  
  
"What do you want?" Simon asked.  
  
Bloody hell, asked for this, Spike thought, having *no* idea how to answer Simon's question. Hell, go with what he wanted least. "Want the demon again. None of this human... nightmare. Want to be the bloody dark warrior again."  
  
"Complete your task, and the master will turn you himself," Simon answered smiling and holding out his hand. Spike didn't want to touch him. Didn't want to agree to any of this. But he shook. Had to look good.  
  
"I will send a team to hunt with you."  
  
"A team?" Spike sputtered, disgusted. " I hunted her for years. I can  
  
hunt her alone."  
  
"The master will want proof that you are truly with us," Simon said.  
  
Spike was thoughtful. This was going to be harder than he thought. Always was. Just want to go home. Want to hold Emma. Want to feel Buffy next to me. Sodding stupid Watcher and his plan. "Fine then. Send your men. But I get the Slayer." Because I won't hurt her. Because I know exactly how much she can take, he thought.  
  
"Right," Simon agreed. With that, he turned on his heels and walked off.  
  
  
  
*****  
  
"Buffy?" Tara called. "You still here?"  
  
Buffy jogged into Emma's room. Tara stood by the crib, staring wildly at the window in that now familiar combination of terror and wonder. "What's wrong?" she asked, her heart sinking. She moved to the edge of the crib, looking in. Emma was giggling, lying on her back, arms outstretched towards the window. Tara seemed caught in a trance.  
  
Buffy's eyes floated to the sill. The butterflies were back, standing  
  
outside the glass, staring in. Her heart began to beat again.  
  
"They're fairies," Buffy said softly.  
  
"I know," Tara answered, touching the glass. They fluttered against her  
  
palm.  
  
"Tara?" Buffy asked, touching the witch's other hand.  
  
"They... they're talking."  
  
"Talking?"  
  
"Mostly to Emma, but some to me."  
  
"But I can't hear anything," Buffy muttered. The window was closed.  
  
"It's.. in my head," Tara answered, furrowing her brow. She didn't quite understand herself.  
  
"Well," Buffy the pragmatist began, "what are they saying?"  
  
"Mostly they're telling Emma that they're her friends. That they serve her. More than anything, they are singing and making silly noises," Tara said, smiling.  
  
"That would account for the giggliness," Buffy said smiling down at the  
  
little girl and gently tickling her stomach, causing a barrage of riotous baby laughter.  
  
"And they're telling me to ask you to please open the window so that they can visit."  
  
Buffy's face became tight. It was warm out, but she had no idea what the creatures truly were. What they meant to do to her baby. Spike's voice echoed in her head. "Harmless. Seem they're meant to help her... in her quest." But then there was the time being frozen bit.  
  
"Tara, can you talk back?"  
  
"I think so," Tara answered serenely, still entranced by the fluttering of the beautiful, coloured wings.  
  
"Ask them if they really mean to help her?"  
  
Tara was silent a moment. "They said it is their duty. She is their  
  
leader."  
  
"Leader?" Buffy asked. Not the best time for arguments. "Ask them if they can leave time alone."  
  
"Leave time alone?" Tara repeated.  
  
"Just ask, " Buffy huffed, hands on her hips.  
  
Again, Tara was silent. "Of course," she answered. "For now."  
  
Buffy shrugged and leaned over the crib, cracking the window. One of the fairies hopped into her hand and curled up. She smiled, realizing that the little creature had kissed her palm.  
  
*****  
  
Spike followed all the familiar routes, staying just off the path. Out of the lights. Neither hide nor hair of his Slayer. Running late?, he  
  
thought. Doubt crept in. The little monster of his insecurity took hold.  
  
Quiet night at home with the Poof?  
  
Bloody Hell.  
  
Emma, he thought. What if something happened? What if she was hurt, or  
  
sick, or...? He was in a jog toward Revello, realizing right before his  
  
foot hit the pool of light from the street lamp that if he crossed the  
  
street, if he stepped into the light, it was all for naught. Spike stepped back into the darkness and stood staring a moment, before he turned back into the night.  
  
He found himself at Willie's. Not a place where he had won a lot of popular acclaim in recent years, but word had spread fast that he had turned on the Slayer and was now under the protection of the mysterious Wankers-that-Be.  
  
Spike sat down on a barstool and ordered a whiskey, watching the demons  
  
around him.  
  
"Buy you a drink?" A pretty female Vampire sat down next to him. His  
  
stomach rolled. Not what he wanted to see. The scent of a woman led him back to lonely thoughts of Buffy.  
  
"No need, Pet," Spike answered, swirling a half-full water glass full of  
  
whiskey and watching it coat the inside of the cup.  
  
"Looks like you could use another. Big things on your mind," she said  
  
sweetly.  
  
"Got my problems," he said, taking a swig. The bartender approached,  
  
setting two more glasses on the bar in front of them.  
  
"The Slayer," she said, still smiling softly.  
  
"What? Does everyone in this town know about my bleeding private life?"  
  
Spike snarled, finishing the glass in one large gulp. The girl chuckled.  
  
"Not every Vampire falls in love with a Slayer. More importantly, not every Slayer loves them back. Enough to have a child of a demon."  
  
Emma's not... he thought. "Guess not," Spike said, picking up the second glass.  
  
"Not to mention that the female Vampire population sunk into a deep state of mourning when you chose a human," she quipped, a blush painting her face along with the sickly sweet smile. Spike grinned back at her.  
  
"Quite the catch, am I?" he snarked, taking another gulp of the amber  
  
liquid.  
  
"Quite," she responded, putting her hand on his knee. He shuddered, an  
  
unpleasant tingle at the base of his neck. "And now you're back where you belong."  
  
Belong. Is this where I belong? Spike questioned. He thought of Buffy's faced etched in his mind. No. He knew where he belonged.  
  
"Not a talker?" the pretty Vampire asked, breaking Spike's reverie.  
  
"Ha!" he laughed. "No one's said that bout me."  
  
"You'll like working for the master."  
  
Spike's head swiveled. She now had his complete attention. "You work for him...too?"  
  
"In my own way," she said, her smile becoming sly. She uncrossed her legs, letting her knees fall apart, then crossed them again.  
  
"Ah," Spike answered, now considering hacking her arm off in order to have her hand removed from his knee.  
  
"He's kind to those who serve him well."  
  
"Not really serving him," Spike commented, thoughtfully. "More of a  
  
partnership. Mutual means to an end."  
  
The girl smiled at Spike. "You work for him," she said, squeezing his knee. "You're a pawn just like the rest of us. You just don't know it yet."  
  
The girl set a ten on the bar and stood to leave, trailing her hands over Spike's shoulders as she walked past. They felt like death.  
  
***********  
  
"Slow night," Buffy said to Angel as they walked the last leg of the  
  
cemetery path. Something felt wrong. Even the constantly vigilant eyes  
  
seemed to have disappeared.  
  
"Moon turns full later tonight. Maybe they're resting up," Angel commented.  
  
"They're not werewolves," Buffy joked.  
  
"The moon effects us all. Almost three nights it's full," he said looking up at the sky.  
  
"Don't start howling," she chided, stepping onto the sidewalk outside the graveyard. Her tone slowly became more serious. "I dunno. Something feels... strange."  
  
"I know," Angel agreed.  
  
"The whole 'something wicked this way comes' vibe."  
  
"Get that from Spike?"  
  
"Dunno," Buffy answered thoughtfully. "Why?"  
  
"Loved Ray Bradbury. That and sappy love poetry," Angel commented.  
  
Buffy giggled. The thought of big bad Spike sitting in his easy chair  
  
reading a novel was... well, come to think of it, it was what he was doing last week. "Maybe I did," Buffy replied. "Wherever it came from, it seems to apply here."  
  
"Guess we'll have to keep our eyes open."  
  
"You keep *your* eyes open," Buffy yawned. " I am going to stretch out in that recliner and curl around a nice warm baby and take a nap."  
  
They started up the front walk. "I miss that," Angel said quietly.  
  
"Miss what?" Buffy answered, praying he wasn't about to launch into past memories of curling up with her. Just wanted to nap with Emma.  
  
"Connor," he muttered. "Cordy and I used to.."  
  
"Cordy?" Buffy asked, stopping on the doorstep. "And you?"  
  
"Not like that," Angel said, shyly. Well, maybe a little, he thought.  
  
Buffy felt something. A fleeting little something. Not jealousy, but that feeling you get when suddenly it occurs to you that life does not revolve around just your little corner of existence. "Good," she said smiling. Maybe there were happy endings. "Cordelia help you with.."  
  
"Yeah," Angel answered. "She was good to him. Pretty much his mother.  
  
She's changed. A lot."  
  
"Seems to be a lot of that going around," Buffy said, walking through the door.  
  
To be contd. 


	10. Until We Meet Again

Title: Until We Meet Again (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 10)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: Spike is reunited with Buffy and Emma, but only for a short time. Gwydion makes his move.  
  
Until We Meet Again  
  
Morning could not have come soon enough. All night, Buffy had thought of Spike. Talking to Angel had only served to remind her of how much she had and how much she had to lose. It was becoming easier to talk to Angel, but she didn't have to speak to Spike. He was in her head. Always.  
  
There had been seven tiny sentries above Emma's crib, sitting on the  
  
windowsill, lazily fluttering their hypnotic wings. Buffy smiled at them and they danced along the sill in the sunlight. "Hi, there," she whispered to them as they moved, "and hi to you," she said, lifting her little daughter from the crib and pulling her against her chest. "Big day. Going to see daddy," she whispered, trying not to rush, but feeling herself trembling with anticipation. How did he have this effect on her? The fairies fluttered one last time, then scooted back into the sunlight once Emma was safely with mother.  
  
  
  
Buffy was dressed and showered in record time and on to getting Emma fed and dressed as quickly as the baby would allow. The Magic Box opened at nine AM and Buffy had every intention of being there as Anya opened the doors. It felt like a first date. Her heart was pumping, her palms sweaty, her nerves firing like little pistons. Felt good to be alive.  
  
The walk to the Magic Box seemed as if it lasted an eternity. Xander had insisted on walking with her, just because an extra set of eyes had never hurt. He took turns pushing the stroller, making goofy but entertaining noises for the baby the entire way. Not that she ever needed much help in the helpless giggling department. Emma was quite possibly the most content child any of them had ever seen. Then again, Buffy thought, she had one of the most content mothers since Spike had decided to stay. Felt good to admit it.  
  
Emma was fascinated by absolutely everything in sight. She never got to go far. Not with the constant threat looming on the horizon. Buffy remembered Spike's words when Giles had told them about the prophesy. 'The real train wreck would be to not let her live like a child.' Buffy made a mental note to take Emma out more. Can't live locked in a house for all eternity. Never worked for Buffy. Doubted it would work for her daughter.  
  
Anya was just unlocking the doors as Buffy, Xander and Emma rolled up.  
  
"You're here early," she chirped, pressing onto her toes to kiss Xander's cheek.  
  
"Thought I could fit in a little training while you and Xander watch Emma," Buffy answered before Xander could think of a response. Inquiring ears want to know.  
  
"Right, sure," Anya whispered, swinging open the door.  
  
As soon as the door jingled shut behind them, Buffy had freed Emma from the stroller and had her balanced on her hip. "Leave the blinds down please," she said hastily as she darted for the basement door.  
  
"Have a nice day," Anya called behind her, watching the door slam in record time.  
  
*****  
  
The blue sedan shuddered to a halt in front of the Revello address. The  
  
sandy haired man with his perfectly polished shoes took a deep breath,  
  
pulling air into his newly pink lungs. He tucked the keys in his pocket and let the door swing to the curb. Even through dark sunglasses, the world seemed unnecessarily bright. Sharp. Hard. The car door clicked shut behind him and he stepped onto the walk in front of the Slayer's home.  
  
Report card writing day. One of the wonders of the public school system, Dawn thought. An entire Friday at home and two more days of sleep still to come. She was drying dishes from breakfast when she heard the knock.  
  
Angel was catching a nap in a cot he set up in the basement. Tara and Will in class. Xander and Anya at the Magic Box. And Buffy. No way she would be back this quickly. Dawn looked through the window. Broad daylight. Probably just a delivery guy. She scampered into the living room and to the front door just as a second knock came. Slowly, she pulled the heavy door open.  
  
"Dawn?" a very pleasant, somewhat familiar English accent.  
  
"Yes?" the girl answered, eyes wide.  
  
"My name is Gwydion. I'm here to talk to your sister about Emma," he said so pleasantly, so sweetly, it was almost hypnotic.  
  
"Sh...She's not here," Dawn stuttered nervously.  
  
"Oh, dear. I'm sorry," Gwydion said shyly, holding out his hand. "I've  
  
been sent here by the Council of Watchers."  
  
Dawn took the elegant, well-manicured hand, sighing in relief. "So you know Giles?"  
  
"Heavens yes," Gwydion answered, smiling broadly. Dawn studied the man  
  
before her. Grey, pinstripe silk suit. Late 40's, early 50's. Average  
  
height. Something about his face. His face seemed... familiar. Not like someone she knew but rather like a whisper of someone. Ruggedly handsome with sandy coloured hair that was neatly combed off his face. Shiny white teeth. Sparkling clear eyes. Almost too handsome, in an old guy kind of way, to be real. "May I come in?" Gwydion asked, breaking Dawn's mental inspection.  
  
"Uh, yeah. Come in," Dawn replied, stepping to the side. "Can I get you anything?"  
  
"No," he answered, kindness thick in his voice. He slid gracefully through the door. "Maybe I could sit and wait a bit. See if she returns."  
  
"I think she'll be..." Dawn stopped to think. "She may be gone for a while. What's this about?" She folded her arms and tried to look as official as she could.  
  
"I really should speak directly to your sister," Gwydion said. A sly smile then broke across his face. "But you seem like a bright girl..."  
  
Dawn's ears perked at the praise. "What is it?" she asked, trying to  
  
control her happiness with the Watcher's trust.  
  
"Well, as I said, it's about Emma," Gwydion repeated. "I'm helping Giles with his work on the Prophesy and it mentions a mark on the child."  
  
"A mark?" Dawn asked, furrowing her brow.  
  
"A birthmark. A small star on the back of her neck."  
  
"I've never noticed and I'm with her all the time," Dawn answered, shifting her weight.  
  
"It's very small," Gwydion commented, touching Dawn's hand, tracing a tiny star. Dawn shuddered at his touch. For the life of her, she could not figure out why.  
  
"I'll let Buffy know," Dawn responded, calmly.  
  
"Is there any way I could take a look at the child? It would probably be easier for me to spot," Gwydion asked sweetly.  
  
"*No*!" Dawn snapped. The Watcher looked at her in utter shock. Hurt  
  
flashed across his face. Something about his face. His expressions. She knew the face. It was even vaguely comforting.  
  
"Dawn, I did not mean to be presumptuous, nor did I mean to frighten you," Gwydion said, seemingly genuinely upset that he had scared the teen. "If you'd like, we can go call the Council and prove who I am," he continued.  
  
"No, no," Dawn said with resignation. She forced herself to smile an  
  
apology. "Just very protective..."  
  
"Perfectly understandable," Gwydion responded, returning her smile. "I mean her no harm. I just want to help."  
  
"I'm sure Buffy will be grateful, especially since..."  
  
"Since what, dear?"  
  
Dawn was silent. She felt as if he was genuine, but Spike had always told her to trust no one, at least not until he had a chance to look 'em over. Made her wonder if she'd ever have a boyfriend. "Since Spike left," Dawn finished.  
  
"Been hard, has it my sweet?"  
  
"Yeah," she answered, looking down.  
  
"Are Buffy and Emma alright?" Genuine concern laced his words. This game was a work of art.  
  
"Yeah," Dawn answered again, smiling sweetly. "But they really aren't  
  
here."  
  
Gwydion was genuinely taken aback. His human informant had told him that Buffy had left the house. He had never mentioned that she had taken Emma as well.  
  
"Are you OK?" Dawn asked, watching Gwydion's face pale. "Need water or  
  
anything?"  
  
"No, no," Gwydion replied, recovering his composure, "but I shan't take up more of your time. Could you please tell your sister I came to call?" he finished, turning back towards the door.  
  
"Sure," Dawn said. "Do you have a number where she can reach you?"  
  
"I haven't checked into my hotel yet, but I will stop back by," Gwydion  
  
said, touching Dawn's arm. She shuddered again. Something. Something  
  
about him.  
  
"Alright," Dawn said, opening the door.  
  
"Pleasure meeting you," Gwydion said, smiling broadly. "Take care, my dear girl."  
  
He turned on a well-polished heel and retreated down the sidewalk.  
  
*****  
  
Buffy fumbled thorough the jars with one hand, the other wrapped around the kicking, laughing infant on her hip. "Had to hide it in the back," she muttered, lifting onto her toes and feeling the edge of the paper underneath a jar. She pulled it free, blowing out a sigh of exertion and relief.  
  
The paper was tiny, folded only once. Buffy flipped it open with her one free hand.  
  
"no news"  
  
Her brow furrowed and a sudden urge to cry began to bubble to the surface. She read it over and over. Must not be safe, she thought as Emma snatched the slip of paper from her hand and shoved it in her mouth.  
  
"Don't think paper is one of the food groups, Pet," a hushed voice came from the corner, as Buffy wrestled the paper from Emma's chubby grasp. Buffy spun, catching a glimpse of him standing in the darkness.  
  
"You said no news," Buffy muttered, half overjoyed and half wanting to punch him for his little trick. Spike stepped into the filtered light from the basement window, placing one finger over his lips.  
  
"Nothing I can't tell you in person," he whispered into her ear, at the same time loosing Emma from Buffy's hip and hoisting her against him. Emma began her giggle fit anew.  
  
"Shh," he whispered to the baby, catching her chuckle and kissing her  
  
forehead. Softly, Spike took Buffy's hand and led her into the tunnels.  
  
"Is it safe... to go in there?" Buffy asked nervously as Spike reached the back door of the lower level. " I mean, won't other vamps be able to ... smell us?  
  
"Well," Spike answered, "Thought of that. Problem is that the place smells of you to begin with."  
  
"Gee thanks," she said. Spike shifted Emma onto his left side as he opened the door with his right.  
  
"Smells of vanilla. And Lavender. A little apple," he said, kissing her cheek. "Beautiful. Like you. But I closed off the lower level with a trap door and threw a rug over it. So that should slow 'em up a bit. Just a lingering scent."  
  
Spike led Buffy into the crypt. The place was tidy. The bed made. "Hire help?" Buffy quipped, looking around.  
  
"Been a bit bored," Spike answered, sitting down on the edge of the bed and holding Emma under her arms so that her little feet balanced on his thighs. "Not quite sure what to do when you are not around.  
  
"Which 'you' are you talking to?" Buffy whispered, crawling onto the bed  
  
next to them.  
  
"That'd be 'you' plural," Spike answered, rubbing his cheek against Buffy's hair.  
  
"Miss us?" Buffy asked, curling around behind him, her head by his left  
  
hip, her legs by his right.  
  
"Very much," he answered, watching Emma closely. The little girl yawned and giggled, reaching out to plant a chubby palm on Spike's nose.  
  
"She grown?" Spike asked, grabbing the little hand and kissing it before setting it back down to her side.  
  
"Maybe," Buffy chuckled. "She changes every day." Buffy was silent,  
  
watching Spike watch Emma. The look on his face was pure love. She knew that look. "The fairies came back."  
  
"In the back yard?" Spike asked, looking down at Buffy.  
  
"No. They came to her window. They asked to come in."  
  
"Asked?" Spike questioned, repositioning Emma so that she was sitting on his lap, his arm wrapped around her.  
  
"They can talk."  
  
"I assumed as much. But you heard them?"  
  
"No," Buffy answered, "but Tara did."  
  
"Tara," Spike repeated. "D'you let them in?"  
  
"Yeah," she replied tentatively. "They said they'd help her."  
  
"Probably wise," Spike commented. "Certainly won't hurt. We need all the help we can get."  
  
"Why Spike? What do you know?" Buffy asked, sitting up. Spike wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her hip flush against his.  
  
Spike told her everything, starting with the night he watched her on the  
  
porch. How Simon had approached him. Everything the dark haired vamp had said almost word for word as if he had recorded it in his mind. Spike told her about the night at Willie's and the female Vampire at which Buffy cringed involuntarily, but was somehow relieved he had told her. It was amazing how he recounted every detail, using every sense, describing every event and weaving it together with his own theories in a dizzying array of thought.  
  
Buffy chuckled.  
  
"What's funny? Spike asked, finally taking a breath. "Serious  
  
information."  
  
"I know," she said, consciously trying to control her giggles, "but for a moment, you started to sound like Giles."  
  
"Wha..." Spike gawked, deeply offended by the concept the he may have  
  
suddenly turned into a Wanker. "I did *not*."  
  
"You did," Buffy said, erupting into giggles. Spike could not help but  
  
catch her beautiful, infectious grin. "Look, you even lulled Emma to  
  
sleep," Buffy continued, gesturing at the baby now napping on his lap, her tiny head plunked against his stomach.  
  
"So, this is the thanks I get for putting my sodding hide on the line for you two," Spike responded, trying his best to sound indignant, but failing miserably against his beautiful Slayer's giggle fit. "I'm *not* Giles, I'll have you know," he continued, mimicking Gile's voice nearly perfectly. "I *have* been shagged in the last quarter century."  
  
"Many times," Buffy said, still giggling under her breath, leaning her face towards his. "In many, many ways," she continued, her voice becoming somehow warmer against his skin.  
  
Spike growled as her lips caught his. She was in complete control. He  
  
couldn't move with Emma asleep on his lap. Her lips danced over his like butterfly wings. "No fair," he muttered. "Insult me and then..."  
  
"Then what?" Buffy teased, her lips still brushing against his.  
  
"Tempt me," he answered in a voice so sensual that Buffy could feel the  
  
little hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. He cupped his hand  
  
behind her neck and pulled her to him, kissing her passionately. She mewled softly against him, but he did not let her go until just before the point of no return. Until Buffy was melting in his hands. He sighed, pulling his face from hers, prompting a little moan of displeasure from her pretty coral lips. "Another day," he whispered as Emma began to stir again.  
  
"I know," she answered smiling softly and kissing him once again.  
  
"You're really going to have to stop," Spike said as her face moved away. She grinned at the blush in his cheeks.  
  
"Can't help it," she answered, leaning towards him again.  
  
"Really," he answered, touching her face. "Emma's not old enough for adult videos and I've missed you far too much." Buffy giggled, the desperation evident in his words.  
  
"Alright," She said, falling back onto the bed. Spike leaned gently back with her, settling Emma in between them.  
  
"Not much longer?" Buffy asked.  
  
"No, Pet," Spike answered, playing her soft fingers with his.  
  
"I'm glad we came," she said, turning to look at him.  
  
"I am too, love. Gives me something to think about until we meet again."  
  
To be contd. 


	11. Army Men

Title: Army Men (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 11)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: Buffy calls a meeting to share information. Spike meets his team. Angel makes a life-threatening mistake.  
  
Army Men  
  
Buffy walked into the house carrying Emma, Xander towing the line with an empty stroller. Despite having to part ways, an entire day alone with Spike was like breathing again. A little smile played on her lips. Even Emma seemed more content, if that was possible. The circle was complete.  
  
"Dawn?" Buffy called.  
  
"Yeah," Dawn called back from the kitchen. Buffy made her way in. Time for a bottle warming anyway.  
  
"Hi," Buffy chirped, nearly floating to the fridge.  
  
"Hi," Dawn said, drawing out the word and grinning broadly. "Nice day?"  
  
Buffy blushed. "That transparent?" she asked, popping a bottle into the  
  
microwave.  
  
"If you want to count the grinning from ear to ear and blushing subtle,  
  
then..." Dawn quipped, grabbing Emma and cooing at the smiling baby.  
  
"Sorry," Buffy said, still smiling and blushing.  
  
"No," Dawn retorted. "Good smiley blushy Buffy. Happy Buffy, good Buffy."  
  
"See you've inherited my talent for words."  
  
"How's Spike?" Dawn asked.  
  
"Good," Buffy answered, testing the bottle and handing it to Dawn.  
  
"Very...efficient."  
  
"Efficient?"  
  
"All businessy-Gilesy."  
  
"And that would explain the blush."  
  
"Don't make me poke you."  
  
"Holding prophesy baby. Back!" Dawn joked, sliding the bottle into Emma's mouth.  
  
"Lucky for you," Buffy quipped. "Tara and Will around?"  
  
"Tara is at her apartment. Willow is in class. Both are coming by for  
  
dinner."  
  
"What should I make?" Buffy asked, opening the fridge.  
  
"Ordering pizza," Dawn snapped, pushing the fridge door shut with her  
  
backside. Buffy shot her sister another warning glance.  
  
"Well," Buffy began, "Anya will be over after she closes at eight. Xander's here. We need to have a meeting so I can fill you in on Spike's info." She was quiet for a second. "Where's Angel?"  
  
"Slept most of the day, but he's up taking a shower."  
  
"Guess that's good that he got some rest. I have an icky feeling about  
  
tonight."  
  
*****  
  
The sun had barely set over the horizon, it's last rays sinking below the line of Earth, when a sharp rap came at the crypt door. Spike hoisted himself from the couch, flicking off the television and strode over to the heavy wooden barrier. When he swung it open along its thick metal hinges, he was taken aback by the sight.  
  
Six burly vampires, all older, all very fit and dressed in game face, all wearing exactly the same black cargo pants, black turtlenecks, black boots as if they were some sort of covert mortuary army unit. They stood in formation on Spike's front step.  
  
"Spike?" an older, raven-haired vampire said, stepping forward.  
  
"Yeah," Spike stuttered. Don't like this at all.  
  
"I am Pwyll. One of the masters men. Simon sent us."  
  
"Right," Spike said, nodding and stepping aside. The vampires filed in.  
  
Pwyll sniffed the air like a bloodhound.  
  
"She was here," he stated, fire in his eyes. "Faint, but I smell the  
  
Slayer."  
  
"Used to stay here, mate," Spike said casually. "Damn smell sticks to  
  
everything." The army men relaxed a bit.  
  
"Have a seat," Spike gestured. "Wherever."  
  
"We are here to hunt," Pwyll replied.  
  
"Slayer doesn't start her rounds until at least nine," Spike said  
  
authoritatively. "She's what I'm after. You need to warm up, go on then." It was a hopeful attempt at getting rid of them, but they began to sit along the periphery of the room.  
  
"We will wait then," Pwyll answered.  
  
"Do whatever you bloody well want," Spike snapped, flicking the telly back to life.  
  
*****  
  
"Right, so Spike seems to think this is going down soon then?" Xander asked, shoving a piece of pizza into his mouth.  
  
"Gut reaction," Buffy answered.  
  
"Moon," Angel said, thoughtfully. All eyes stared at him. Angel shrugged, leaning on the banister. Buffy noticed Angel was a lot shyer of eating in front of them. If it had been Spike, he'd have been alternating pizza and sipping a mug of blood without even thinking about it. Not sure if that was a good thought or not. She smiled anyway.  
  
"Regardless, we need to be on our guard," Buffy said. "Tara, can you  
  
reinforce the spell?"  
  
"Sure," Tara chirped.  
  
"If you can, step it up a notch. Only humans. Clem will have to wait."  
  
Buffy looked over at the Vampire standing near the stairs. "Make that human souls."  
  
"Right," Tara answered, winking. "What about the fairies?"  
  
Buffy thought a moment. The rest stared at them oddly. "They can stay."  
  
"Fairies?" Xander asked.  
  
"Long story," Buffy sighed.  
  
"I'll try to see what I can dig up on the Master Line," Willow chimed in, albeit quietly.  
  
"Good," Buffy answered, smiling reassuringly. It was nice to be getting  
  
Willow back.  
  
"I'll stay with Emma," Dawn said, assigning herself her rightful place.  
  
"Alright," Buffy agreed, "but stay with someone please. I don't want anyone alone."  
  
"Right," Dawn answered. She knew better than to fight with Buffy when it came to either Emma or Spike.  
  
"And keep your eyes open for anything odd. Anything," Buffy pleaded.  
  
"Oh," Dawn said, looking down.  
  
"What is it, Dawnie?" Willow asked, looking at the girl.  
  
"I meant to tell you that a Watcher came by this afternoon."  
  
Everyone in the room was silent. Buffy could feel the anger welling, but forced it back the best she could. "And you are just telling me this now, why?"  
  
"B...because..." Dawn stuttered.  
  
"Who was it?" Angel asked, trying to break the tension between the sisters.  
  
"Said his name was Gwydion. He knows Giles. He's helping him with the  
  
prophesy. Came to talk to you and check for some... mark... on Emma."  
  
"Mark?" Buffy snapped.  
  
"A star."  
  
"There's no mark."  
  
"That's what I said."  
  
"We'll check when she wakes up, but no mark. Dawn, did you let him in?"  
  
"Yes," Dawn answered quietly.  
  
"Angel, where were you?" Buffy said as it occurred to her that this was  
  
precisely the reason he was here. The anger began to bubble to the surface.  
  
"A..asleep, I guess."  
  
"Vampire hearing?"  
  
"Didn't hear anything that sounded..." Angel argued. "Look, I'm sorry." He said quietly.  
  
"You are here for one reason," Buffy said, flatly. "Because we asked you to help protect Emma. Don't *ever* let this happen again." Buffy glanced at her watch. Nine thirty. Patrol needed to be done. The rest would have to wait.  
  
"Anya?" Buffy asked, swinging her head toward the woman.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Can you call Giles and ask about this.. Gwydion guy?"  
  
"Sure," Anya chirped in agreement.  
  
"And can you guys look Emma over when she gets a bath. See about this  
  
mark?"  
  
"I know a lot about ancient ritual markings," Willow contributed.  
  
"Good. Just take a look." Buffy said. "Angel? Ready?" Her eyes were  
  
still full of fire  
  
"Ready," he answered.  
  
"*No one*," Buffy said as she stood, grabbing her coat, "*no one* comes in. And I would appreciate it if no one leaves."  
  
"We won't, Buff," Xander answered. Buffy grabbed her cross bow. She felt as if she might need something extra. Angel sheathed a sword under his coat.  
  
"Please watch her. Every minute." Buffy pleaded.  
  
"We will," Dawn answered, starting up the stairs. Buffy swung the door  
  
open, striding into the night. Angel followed at her heels.  
  
*****  
  
"What the *hell* were you doing?" Buffy raged at Angel as they moved out of earshot of the house.  
  
"I heard the knock and got up, but something told me she knew him..." Angel stuttered. It was true. He'd heard the door and the voices, but for some reason, he didn't move to check it out. Didn't sense any danger. He wasn't quite sure why himself.  
  
"So what, you're psychic now?" Buffy snarked, striding down the street.  
  
"No, Buffy," Angel answered. "I'm sorry. It just.. it sounded like she  
  
knew him. It won't happen again."  
  
"It had *better* not," Buffy hissed, stopping in her tracks and spinning  
  
toward her former love. "That was my little sister. If anything happens to her.... What if Emma *had* been there?"  
  
"I understand Buffy. I'm sorry. I know that Spike would..."  
  
"Spike," Buffy snapped, "would be a prom date compared to what I would do to you." She tried to relax. To breathe. She knew Angel hadn't meant to harm them, but the fact was, that was her family and he had endangered them. She took a deep breath and settled herself. "Look, just don't let it happen again," she sighed.  
  
"I promise, Buffy. I'm sorry."  
  
Buffy turned and continued walking down the street, this time toward the  
  
docks. Just felt she needed to avoid the cemetery for a while. Together they walked in silence.  
  
*****  
  
"Well, Spike," Pwyll said with obvious dissatisfaction, "looks to be about eleven and no sign of your Slayer. We were told you knew her patterns."  
  
Kind of wondering that myself, Spike thought. "Relax," he said, hopping up on a headstone and lighting a cigarette. "Slayers go where they are needed. Must've gotten some mystical call or some other sodding malarky."  
  
"Master controls everything on the Hellmouth now," Pwyll responded.  
  
"Would've informed us if there was to be an uprising."  
  
"Well," Spike answered, "she's a fickle beast. She'll be here."  
  
Pwyll leaned back against a headstone, waving at his men to stand down.  
  
They instantly relaxed. Mindless Wankers, Spike thought.  
  
Together they waited in silence.  
  
To be contd. 


	12. The Fates

Title: The Fates (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 12)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: Drusilla has a vision. The conflict between Buffy, Angel, Spike and the Army Men comes to a head.  
  
The Fates  
  
  
  
Gwydion stormed back in to the rented house. "Simon?" he called, his voice rage and annoyance personified. Simon scurried into the room, frightened just by the tone.  
  
"Yes, sir?"  
  
"What *exactly* did the informant say this morning?"  
  
"That the Slayer had left the house," Simon answered, timidly.  
  
"And the child?" Gwydion asked, pouring a drink and pacing around the room.  
  
"Did not mention her," Simon replied honestly. "Did the plan not go as  
  
expected?"  
  
"Do I act as if I am pleased?" Gwydion raged, the glass breaking in his  
  
grip.  
  
"N...no sir."  
  
"Bring him to me."  
  
"The informant?"  
  
"Of course you.... git," Gwydion snapped. "And send Drusilla."  
  
"Drusilla?"  
  
"Are you deaf now?" Gwydion's eyes were fire.  
  
"No, sir."  
  
Gwydion took a deep breath, his shoulders dropping slightly. "Well, at  
  
least the binding spell worked on the souled one."  
  
"He was not alerted to your presence, sir?"  
  
"No," Gwydion answered. " I imagine he was sitting there dazed as to why he felt no need to move. Tell Mistress Leonora that I am in her debt."  
  
"She has cast the spell to last as long as the amulet's powers," Simon  
  
commented.  
  
"Yes," Gwydion replied. "Now we need another opportunity."  
  
"Spike?" Simon asked.  
  
"Only if we must," Gwydion answered. "Drusilla had said the fates are on our side, so let us see what they have in store for us first, shall we?"  
  
"Forgive me for saying so, but the girl is quite mad."  
  
Gwydion smiled softly. "That she is, Simon. But she has the sight."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Off with you then," Gwydion said, flicking his wrist at Simon as he fled from the room.  
  
*****  
  
Buffy walked into the cemetery, hesitating as her foot stepped inside its gates.  
  
"What is it, Buffy?" Angel asked. They were the first words that either had said since her diatribe in the street. Buffy raised her crossbow, sighting it along the tree line.  
  
"Something's here," she answered, changing in front of Angel's eyes from  
  
woman to warrior. Her face hardened, her muscles twitched in anticipation, her stride began again, long and purposeful and as graceful as a lioness on the prowl. There was no way for him to see the feelings of fear and despair pounding in her veins.  
  
"What is it?" Angel asked again.  
  
"Just be ready," Buffy whispered, starting down the path into the heart of darkness.  
  
*****  
  
"Drusilla?" Gwydion asked as his dark beauty floated into the room. He was sitting stiffly in the red velvet chair.  
  
"Yes," she whispered, kneeling at his feet.  
  
"Tell me once again about the fates," he asked softly, stroking her hair.  
  
"They told me the Empress would leave the Star. She will run to the  
  
Emperor."  
  
"The Slayer?"  
  
"Yes. The Empress. You see, the Emperor is wounded in the great battle. The Hanged Man does it. The Empress will go to him."  
  
"When, my dear?"  
  
"Now and then. By the by. It's already happened in here," Drusilla sang, tapping her head. Gwydion swallowed his frustration. Understanding Drusilla was like solving the riddle of the Sphinx. Simple but complex. Worth the effort but an effort it was.  
  
"Drusilla, what does the moon over the great battle resemble?"  
  
"An egg with a little sliver from the top," she answered, drawing it in the air.  
  
"Almost full?"  
  
"From mother to crone," she nodded.  
  
"Thank you my dear," Gwydion said sweetly. "Simon is bringing home a very naughty man who needs to be punished. Would you like to play with him?"  
  
"Oh yes," she hissed, hopping up and down on her knees.  
  
"Go and wait in your room, my dear." Gwydion said. Drusilla unfolded into a lean, dark beauty towering above the chair.  
  
"You wish to kill the Star?" Drusilla asked, as she turned to go.  
  
"Yes. Then darkness can rule and you will be my little princess."  
  
"I like *that*," she drew her words out and smiled. "But it is not nice to kill little babies."  
  
"Never you mind, my sweet. Go and wait for your toy." With that, Drusilla disappeared into the shadows.  
  
*****  
  
The little hairs at the nape of Spike's neck stood on end just before the faintest scent of vanilla tickled his nose. "Slayer," he muttered, hopping from the tombstone.  
  
"Where?" Pwyll asked, motioning his men to attention.  
  
"Near."  
  
"I don't sense her."  
  
"Well you don't quite know her as I do, you sodding git," Spike huffed.  
  
"Remember, fight her if you must, but she belongs to me. That was the  
  
arrangement."  
  
"The kill is yours," Pwyll said, bowing.  
  
"Wouldn't be so bloody confident," Spike snarked. "Little girl could kick you from here cross the bleeding pond."  
  
Buffy and Angel walked into the far end of their vision. Pwyll motioned the five subservient men into action. Spike had hoped he could warn her, but these incompetent fools would be a walk in the park for his Slayer. It was having to battle her himself that concerned him the most. It wasn't the fight. He knew just where to land a blow without doing her any harm. The rub was making it work. Angel would have to dust Pwyll or Spike would have to come up with another way to end it without killing off any of the three of them. Not that the Poof's demise would send him into a deep state of mourning, but he was doing them a favour.  
  
Buffy stepped fully into his line of sight, crossbow raised, legs braced  
  
against the Earth. He watched her notice him and she faltered, the crossbow missing its mark and catching one of the younger vamps in the shoulder. She spun, recovering and planted a kick to his stomach, sending him reeling into a mausoleum. A whimper escaped his lips and he scurried to his feet, fleeing the scene. Buffy moved to chase, but decided that the remaining four were the more pressing issue.  
  
Watching her battle was like poetry in motion. The fluidity of her  
  
movement. The rhythm of her strike, the grace in which she defied gravity, plunging the stake as if it were the ending flourish of some macabre dance. She was graceful and lethal, beautiful and fierce and every side of her he loved and respected.  
  
Angel battled a second vamp as Buffy worked on her third. His style was  
  
old, but effective. He was a fighter of fist and sword, not as resourceful or as fluid as Spike's Slayer, but the job was done all the same. He watched Buffy and Angel interact. How Buffy moved instinctively to warn and to protect, how Angel grunted with displeasure at every blow that rained on Buffy. How Angel looked at her still in awe and wonder. How much I have missed?, Spike thought. The jealousy bubbled, accelerating his heart, making his palms sticky with anticipation. How he only wished he could fight the Poof. Rip him from his Slayer. Hurt him for all he had done to her and all she had managed to forgive.  
  
Forgive.  
  
In the end, guess I can't cast the first stone, Spike thought. Still like to give him a sodding roughing up, though.  
  
As the last vamp was dusted, Pwyll sprang to life and darted towards the  
  
pair as if shot from a cannon. Spike raced behind, heading toward the one spot of violence that would not help him sleep tonight. Angel was swinging the sword above his head an in an ancient flourish as Pwyll descended upon him, his own weapon drawn. They looked as if caught in the midst of some medieval battle. Buffy had dropped the crossbow, standing absolutely still, legs planted in fighting stance, arms in front of her. Mano a mano. No weapons. No glory.  
  
The clanging of metal danced around as Buffy came at Spike, jabbing right, left, undercut, spin, roundhouse, plant. He knew this dance. He'd trained her in it every day. Spike shifted to game face. Somehow it wasn't right to fight her in earnest in the same face with which he loved her. As she moved to kick again, he caught her ankle, twisting and flipping her to the ground. She looked up, almost smiling as he lunged down at her and she used her legs to toss him over her head and into the grass behind her. This was like puppies rough housing to her. He could smell her excitement and feel his own.  
  
Why does fighting have to turn us on?, she thought.  
  
Buffy sprang to her feet and Spike to his, face to face, circling each other like boxers in a ring. She jabbed, he blocked, she kicked, he reeled, she missed, he knocked her down, all the while, King Arthur battled the rabid rabbit with swords sparking and clanging. What was the point? Much easier to stake the sot and be done with it.  
  
Spike sparred back and forth with Buffy, landing just enough blows to make it look believable, and Buffy accommodated, whimpering and spewing insults in alternating order. She landed quite a few strikes as well and Spike could feel the angry bruises building fast under his skin. Still, the sight of her all flushed and pretty was driving him mad.  
  
She landed a kick, backing Spike almost into Angel. The fluttering of  
  
duster against duster as they passed, back to back. The sound of the sword cutting through air and the thud of Pwyll's head falling to the ground. Spike turned toward the sound as Buffy approached from his side. The world seemed to slow as the sword came down to Angel's side, swinging back from the momentum of the strike.  
  
Then the searing pain as metal tore through fabric. Then flesh. Then meat. Then bone.  
  
Buffy stopped dead as Spike reeled back, his hand clutched just below his ribs. He staggered, blood pouring between his fingers, and fell forward, grabbing Buffy with his free hand.  
  
"Spike?" she whispered in shock, as he fell to his knees, pulling her to the ground with him. Angel watched in stunned horror. "Spike?"  
  
"Be alright. Go. Have to. Watching," he whispered, faintly. Her hand  
  
caught his and she felt the blood seep into her fingers. The tears welled.  
  
"Mortal?" she gasped, as the heavy drops spilled slowly from the corners of her eyes.  
  
"Go, Pet," he whispered against her cheek. "Go, you bloody *bint*. Let me rest in peace," he shouted, back to the show, pushing her away with as much force as he could muster. Didn't take much. Buffy could have been pushed over by a wind. Spike looked helplessly at Angel. Shock and confusion painted his grandsire's face. "Go," Spike shouted again, pushing Buffy with the last of his strength and rolling onto the grass.  
  
Angel grabbed Buffy by the collar, staring down at Spike. Had to get her out of here. He pulled her to her feet, dragging her away.  
  
To be contd 


	13. The Star

Title: The Star (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 13)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: Spike is mortally wounded. Buffy has to leave him alone. Spike gets an unexpected visitor.  
  
The Star  
  
"Gwydion?" the wounded warrior called, bolting into the house.  
  
"What is that?" Gwydion asked, stepping into the entryway with practiced elegance.  
  
"The Slayer and Angel. They killed them all," he panted. "All but me."  
  
"Spike?" Gwydion asked, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the wall.  
  
"He was wounded badly. I think... I think he's mortal," the vampire  
  
commented, furrowing his brow.  
  
"Mortal?"  
  
"He took a sword blow to the gut. There was a lot of blood. He looked as if he was dying, sir,"  
  
"Did the Slayer cut the final blow?"  
  
"No, sir. It was quite the accident. Angel stabbed him as he was finishing Pwyll."  
  
A sad look crossed the face of the sandy haired man. "Poor Pwyll," he  
  
whispered. "Well, if Spike is indeed mortal, there is one less obstacle to overcome."  
  
"But I thought..."  
  
Gwydion laughed. "That Spike was with us? No, my child. He belongs to the Slayer. To the Peacemaker. Tied for all eternity."  
  
"Then why?"  
  
"Patience, son," Gwydion said, patting the boy's shoulder. "Have Simon  
  
patch you up."  
  
"Yes sir," the army vamp said, spinning on a heel in a precise motion and heading down the hallway. Drusilla watched from the doorway. As Gwydion turned back into the den, she disappeared quietly into the shadows.  
  
*****  
  
Spike was counting the stars. Watching them flicker and fade and brighten. Really didn't hurt anymore. Be fine in a few minutes. Soon as the bleeding stops. The stars danced above, moving, glowing, disappearing. Just a few more minutes and I'll be right as rain, he thought. Spike closed his eyes against the dizzying array above.  
  
There she was. Stepping through the flames as she had that night in Africa. So light. So dazzlingly beautiful.  
  
"I miss you, Spike." Just a whisper.  
  
"My love," he choked.  
  
A small girl appeared next to her, walking to Buffy's side and taking  
  
Buffy's hand. Couldn't have been more than five. Beautiful. Cut from the same cloth with shiny blonde hair and huge doe eyes. Just sapphires rather than emeralds. "Emma," Spike groaned, trying to sit up. The two were shining through the flames, wild and pretty and good.  
  
"I love you, Daddy," the little girl's voice rang. The sweetest, most peaceful voice, rich beyond her years.  
  
"C'mere, mite," he whispered. But they were gone.  
  
*****  
  
Buffy was running, pounding down the street, tears flowing as fast as her legs moved, her heart racing, breaking. She was going the wrong way. Spike was behind her. Spike was... mortal. Spike was dying. She ran because it was the only way not to run back.  
  
Angel was calling to her, trailing her. Damn him, Buffy thought. Damn his stupid sword. Damn his.. presence. She wanted to scream back to leave her alone, but she was afraid if her mouth opened, the primal sound of rage and hurt and fear would shatter the night. Bring the very stars down from the sky.  
  
She burst through the door of their house, steaming past the waiting crew in the living room, never pausing before running up the stairs. Angel could explain this. He could tell them how he nearly killed Spike. Nearly. But I don't know that, do I?, she thought. She felt the blood. Saw his eyes fade from blue to clear, his face blank into that horrible stare. Buffy ran into Emma's room, her feet suddenly still. There was no where left to run.  
  
"Buffy?" Dawn asked, as Buffy dropped to her knees, her head falling into her hands as if it were made of lead. The sobs came. The hitching, horrible, painful sobs. "Buffy?" She felt her sister's arms around her. "Buffy, what happened?"  
  
"Spike," Buffy whispered when she could find the breath.  
  
"What about Spike?"  
  
"Mortal," Buffy muttered.  
  
"OK," Dawn said, confused. Suddenly, the idea clicked into place in her  
  
mind. "Buffy, did you hurt Spike?"  
  
"No." Buffy's body shook like a leaf in a hurricane.  
  
"Then what?"  
  
"Angel. Accident."  
  
"What accident?"  
  
"Stabbed. Dying."  
  
"Buffy," Dawn said forcefully, fear racking her. She pulled Buffy's face from her hands. "What do you mean? Talk to me."  
  
"Angel," she whispered," Killing a vampire with a sword and cut Spike. He was bleeding. Dawn, he's a mortal."  
  
"Is he OK?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"We have to go to him, " Dawn said, standing up quickly, resolve in her  
  
voice.  
  
"No," Buffy answered, standing in front of her. "We can't. He made me  
  
leave. If we go, we could endanger Emma. We could lose her."  
  
"If we don't, Spike might die."  
  
"Dawn, he *made* me go. He doesn't want us to leave her."  
  
"But.."  
  
"I'll go as soon as the sun rises. Get the keys from Anya," Buffy ordered, her resolve coming back.  
  
"What do we do until then?"  
  
"Wait," Buffy said, the tears still silently falling. "Now go," she  
  
whispered, kissing Dawn's forehead. Dawn looked at her closely and jogged out of the room.  
  
*****  
  
Spike's eyes fluttered open. The stars were gone. Candles glowed. The  
  
shadow danced around the room. Furniture. He was in his crypt, laid out on his bed. Spike tried to lift his head, but he was too tired. His hand was pressed against his shirt and he could feel the warm stickiness of blood still crawling between his fingers. A haze covered everything in a surreal glow. It had been quick the first time he died. He felt her teeth sinking deep into his flesh, a sharp pain, then it faded to blissful blackness. This was different. This was human. This time he had reason not to fade.  
  
He heard feet patter in the shadows. Spike tried to lift his head again  
  
with no success. He closed his eyes and felt a cloth on his head and  
  
delicate fingers peel his hand away from the wound.  
  
"Buffy?" he muttered.  
  
"Shh, love," the voice said. It was familiar, thick and spiced, but it was not Buffy. Spike's eyes flickered open once again.  
  
"Drusilla?"  
  
"Hello, Spike." That familiar Cheshire cat grin spreading across her dark features.  
  
"What...."  
  
"Don't talk," she continued, putting a long finger over his lips. The  
  
feelings of comfort and utter revulsion battled in her touch. "The Hanged Man wounded the Emperor. Come to heal him."  
  
"Why are you here?" he croaked.  
  
"Gwydion brought me along," she chirped. "Thought the New World might be a nice holiday."  
  
"Gwydion?"  
  
"The master," she answered. Spike tried to process everything she  
  
was saying. A twinge of jealousy hit. She had found someone to take care of her. Another puppy to play with. But jealousy was quickly replaced by fury. The fact she was here and here with the master, with Gwydion, meant she was here to kill is daughter. Drusilla. Betrayal. What more could he expect?  
  
"Where is he, Dru?"  
  
"Ah, ah, ah," she chastised, wagging her finger. "You're not to know, my naughty Spike."  
  
"Dru, he..."  
  
"Shhh."  
  
"Dru, he plans to kill a child. Did you know that?"  
  
"The Star," she whispered, her face dropping. "I told him it was bad to kill little babies. There will be many other chances when she's grown."  
  
Spike felt himself growl. He had forgotten how cold-blooded she could be. Still, he thought, Angelus had butchered her family, even the little ones before turning her. He knew what it had done to her. What had once been a gift, that night, became madness.  
  
"Dru," The words seemed to whistle from his lips and from his wound. "You have to tell me when. How?" Spike twinged, the pain crashing. His body shook.  
  
Drusilla looked at him wide eyed. "It's true!" she exclaimed.  
  
"True?"  
  
"You're a mortal." A look of horror crossed her face.  
  
"It seems that way, Pet," he answered, falling back against the pillows.  
  
"I can take it away," she hissed, her face changing as it did that night in the alley. She crawled up the bed, straddling his hips, leaning down until she was just inches from his face.  
  
"Dru, no."  
  
"You cannot want this life. This death."  
  
"I chose it, Dru."  
  
"I can give you back your health. Your power."  
  
"I love her," Spike whispered. Dru rocked back. He watched in hazy  
  
interest as her dark mind processed what she had always known.  
  
"You loved me once," she sang, almost as if the words were part of some  
  
funeral dirge.  
  
"That I did, Pet," Spike answered, honestly.  
  
"I can make it that way again," she whispered in that mad, sultry voice,  
  
stretching out on top of him. He could not move. Pain, fatigue,  
  
hopelessness pinned him to the bed. "I can make you what you were. Darkest prince. My love," she chanted. He could feel her tongue flicker along his jugular. Spike closed his eyes swallowing. "I can take your pain and make you a god." Her teeth scraped sensuously against his flesh.  
  
"Dru, no." he croaked, tears in his eyes. If he was to die tonight, he  
  
wanted it to be on his own terms. Still, her wicked mouth caressed his  
  
neck. Her dark, intoxicating beauty. The smell of opium and rose petals and blood.  
  
"I can make you better," she breathed.  
  
"I miss you," her sweet, light voice. The flames flickering around her.  
  
"I love you, Daddy," Words that were yet unspoken.  
  
"Dru, No!" Spike snapped as her fangs began to burrow into his flesh. With a final burst of energy, he pushed her off of him. She tumbled across the bed, stopping just before she hit the floor.  
  
"Spike?" she said, horror and confusion on her doll like face. How he had loved her once. Not anymore. Never again.  
  
"I don't want to go back," Spike said softly.  
  
"You *want* to die here with her...stink.. all around you?"  
  
" I would rather die with her," Spike whispered, getting tired again.  
  
"Drusilla, I loved you once. Our time is gone. I chose her. I chose this. Please, pet. Leave me be."  
  
Drusilla stood, floating across the room on her long graceful legs. Spike waited, knowing she would try again and doubting he had the energy to fend her off a second time. She stopped next to the bed and leaned down towards him. He closed his eyes, begging whoever would listen to deliver him from this fate.  
  
Soft lips pressed to his forehead. "Goodbye then, my Spike." He took great effort to force open his eyes and look at her once again. "The fairies will know."  
  
"Know what, Pet?"  
  
"When the fairies meet, there will be a ball. Thousands of them, dancing in the sunlight. That is when the Star would fall."  
  
"At the hands of the fairies?" Spike asked, trying to unravel her words. Trying to understand why she was even saying them.  
  
"No," she giggled. "The fairies love the Star. The day of their ball will be the day that Gwydion will come."  
  
Spike thought a moment, trying to record it in his shattered mind. Trying to unlock the riddle with an intellect that was fading with his body. Hoping he could get to Buffy in time.  
  
Drusilla turned and glided toward the door. "Dru?" Spike called.  
  
"Yes, my love," she answered, turning her head.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
She looked at him for a long moment, then drifted into the darkness.  
  
  
  
To be contd. 


	14. The Sacrifice

Title: The Sacrifice (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 14)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN,  
  
Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: Spike is mortally wounded and alone after a visit from  
  
Drusilla. Drusilla is caught by Gwydion. Buffy makes a sacrifice  
  
to help Spike and waits for the sunrise in hopes it will save him.  
  
The Sacrifice  
  
Drusilla crept back into the house unnoticed, or so she thought.  
  
She tiptoed like a child fearing being caught peeking at her  
  
Christmas presents.  
  
"Drusilla?" the polished, perfect, voice sounded from a darkened  
  
corner. He stepped into the soft lamp light in front of the  
  
frightened girl.  
  
"Y..yes."  
  
"Where have you been, my dear girl?" Gwydion asked, stepping into  
  
her path.  
  
Drusilla thought a moment. "Been to see Spike."  
  
"And what did you see, little one?"  
  
"Death," Drusilla muttered.  
  
"Did you speak?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"About?"  
  
"Love."  
  
"Do you love him still, dear?"  
  
"Yes," she answered. "But our time has passed."  
  
"Did you..."  
  
"No," she answered, reading his thoughts. "He tastes like ashes."  
  
Gwydion stared at the dark girl for a long moment before nodding her  
  
dismissal. Slowly, Drusilla glided out of the room as if she walked  
  
upon the air.  
  
*****  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
Buffy was pacing back and forth across the baby's room. Not long  
  
after their return, Emma had erupted into hysterical screams,  
  
uncharacteristic terror for the most content child alive. Emma was  
  
cradled against Buffy's chest as the woman silently stalked the  
  
room.  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"Get.Out." she hissed at him. Angel stood in the doorway looking  
  
hurt, confused, guilty.  
  
"Buffy, I..."  
  
"You what?" she snapped. All semblance of rational thought had  
  
disappeared when she felt Spike's blood crawl across her fingers.  
  
When she had seen his eyes blankly stare at her face.  
  
"I had no... I didn't mean to.."  
  
"To what, Angel?"  
  
"I..."  
  
"To kill him?" she asked, her voice laced with fear and rage.  
  
"Buffy, he may not be dead."  
  
"No thanks to you."  
  
"It *was* an accident."  
  
"An accident," Buffy whispered, the tears starting again. "An  
  
accident," she repeated.  
  
"It was.."  
  
"Regardless," she said, fighting off tears, "you might just have  
  
destroyed us tonight, so forgive me if I am not feeling very  
  
forgiving."  
  
"I didn't mean.."  
  
"Mean to take away her father? Mean to break my heart? Again?"  
  
Fire and ice battled in her voice.  
  
"Buffy..."  
  
"Get.Out." Buffy said, flatly.  
  
"Right. I'll go down to the basement and we'll..."  
  
"Get out of the house. Go home. Live your... unlife. I'll take  
  
care of this myself," Buffy ordered, not thinking, just reacting.  
  
"I promised Spike that...."  
  
"Lot of good that'll do now,:" Buffy snapped. She breathed deeply,  
  
still pacing along the carpet, the crying baby against her chest.  
  
Fear and anger and hurt controlled her now. "Look," she said, in a  
  
forced moment of sanity, "please go before either of us say things  
  
we can't take back."  
  
"Buffy, I *am* sorry."  
  
"Please," Buffy said, sobbing now, her shaking body matching her  
  
daughter's. Her sadness dropped on Angel like a brick. Slowly, he  
  
turned to go.  
  
*****  
  
Spike laid there in the darkness, the candle flames flickering  
  
against the wall, creating long, thin shadows. He watched the  
  
shadows because he thought that if he closed his eyes, he may not  
  
have the energy to open them again. The bleeding had stopped , but  
  
he could feel the sticky substance of life and of death all around  
  
him. The wound was pulling tight. So there were still healing  
  
powers. Still, he thought, too little too late.  
  
He thought about trying to get up. To find something to clean off  
  
the mess, but his insides felt torn in two and his head felt as if  
  
it were made of lead. Moving seemed... impossible.  
  
Spike watched the candle flicker against the wall. He had died once  
  
before alone. He did not care to do it again.  
  
*****  
  
A slight knock came at Emma's door. "Buffy?"  
  
Buffy stood at the window, leaning against the frame. Spike always  
  
stood here with Emma. She could feel him here. Emma was in an  
  
uneasy sleep in her arm. The baby whimpered and moaned, wriggling  
  
as if every bad dream had descended upon her all at once. Seven  
  
fairies still stood sentry on the sill, but they did not flutter or  
  
dance. They sat quietly, wings folded n the dying moonlight. Not  
  
much longer until dawn.  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
Buffy turned her exhausted, tear stained face toward the voice at  
  
the door. Tara stood, Willow shadowing her. She was holding a  
  
small, leather knapsack. "Yeah," Buffy muttered, not moving from  
  
the spot.  
  
Tara stepped gently into the room, setting the bag on the recliner.  
  
"I packed up some medical supplies. Well, Willow did. Stuff we  
  
found around here. You have a lot."  
  
"Occupational hazard," Buffy commented, trying to smile.  
  
Tara's faced stilled, became serious. "I..I know that you... and  
  
Spike.. aren't big fans of magic..."  
  
"No... no... no bringing people back," Buffy said quietly, her  
  
tears starting again. Sometimes she felt like a fountain.  
  
"No," Tara responded, shaking her head. "Nothing like that."  
  
Slowly, Tara slid two bottles from the knapsack. One red. One  
  
blue. "These are... potions.. that I made. No dark magic. Mostly  
  
just herbal medicines with a little... Goddess juice," she  
  
continued smiling. Buffy furrowed her brow. "Think of it as white  
  
magic. Booster. The blue bottle goes on the wound itself once it  
  
has been cleaned. It should help seal it off."  
  
Buffy looked at Tara uneasily, but nodded in understanding.  
  
"The red one," Tara continued, holding it up in the soft lamplight,  
  
"is a little stronger. It's an infusion of herbs and a little  
  
magic, mixed in blood."  
  
Buffy jumped a bit. "What blood?"  
  
"The regular," Tara said, smiling softly. "From the fridge."  
  
"Oh," Buffy muttered. "Should it be... you know... should you  
  
use..?"  
  
"Yours?" Tara asked, reading her face more than her thoughts.  
  
"Slayer blood is the strongest, but the infusion takes too much.  
  
Spike would never want..."  
  
Buffy walked to Tara. "But some would help?"  
  
Tara looked worried, not sure how to answer. Draining Buffy was  
  
wrong on so many levels. Not to mention that if Spike survived, he  
  
was likely to chastise Tara into the ground. For a moment, she  
  
considered chuckling at that thought. "Technically, yes, but this  
  
should do just fine. It's not a cure, Buffy. It's just going to  
  
help him... recharge. It won't last. Just a few hours. Hopefully  
  
we can find a doctor in the meantime."  
  
"But my blood would help?" Emma shifted in her mother's arms,  
  
crying out softly. Buffy patted her back instinctively, pulling the  
  
baby tighter against her.  
  
"Y...yes."  
  
Buffy looked down at Emma's pretty face. Felt her skin. Toyed with  
  
her little fingers. I have to do something, Buffy thought. I left  
  
him alone there to die. Softly, Buffy kissed the top of Emma's head  
  
and motioned to Willow. Willow stepped silently from the doorway  
  
and gently took Emma from Buffy. "Let's go," Buffy said softly,  
  
grabbing Tara's hand.  
  
*****  
  
They stood face to face in the bathroom, the red bottle and a candle  
  
set between them on the cold marble countertop. Tara's eyes were  
  
closed and she was chanting softly, passing an athame back and forth  
  
through the flame. Buffy thought she should be scared, or at least  
  
nervous, but instead, she felt only a faint numbness and resolution.  
  
Tara's eyes flickered opened and she took Buffy's hand in hers,  
  
slowly turning it until the soft light skin of her inner arm  
  
glistened in the candlelight. Buffy nodded and Tara drew the knife  
  
across Buffy's wrist in one quick stroke. Her blood bubbled to the  
  
surface in a neat, red line, pooling along her skin. Tara softly  
  
turned her arm again, allowing Buffy's very essence to drip softly  
  
into the bottle.  
  
Buffy closed her eyes. There was no pain. No worry greater than  
  
her love for Spike and their daughter. In that moment, it dawned on  
  
her that no sacrifice was too great. She squeezed her hand into a  
  
fist and felt the blood pump steadily from the wound. Instead of  
  
feeling drained, Buffy felt as if she were filling. Filling with  
  
hope, determination, resolve, love. She could save him.  
  
*****  
  
The first rays of the sun began to peak over the horizon in shades  
  
of pink and amber and gold. Buffy was packing everything back into  
  
the knapsack, her arm neatly bandaged and cared for by Tara.  
  
"Buffy," Tara began. "He has to drink the whole bottle. All of it.  
  
It will only help for a few hours. A bit longer with your blood.  
  
It won't do anything if he's already...."  
  
"I know," Buffy said, not wanting to hear it said. She lifted the  
  
knapsack over her shoulder.  
  
"Since it is daylight, Willow and I are going to go find a doctor  
  
who might know something about..."  
  
"Start with the nurse who delivered Emma," Buffy said.  
  
"Xander will stay with Dawn. Anya's still trying to track down  
  
Giles."  
  
"Track down?"  
  
"She called for hours and finally got a hold of a woman."  
  
"A woman?" This was no time to deal with Giles' personal life.  
  
"A woman. Said he was on sabbatical. Some sort of vision quest or  
  
something."  
  
"Well, ask her to keep trying," Buffy said. Dawn came in the room  
  
and took her niece from Willow, freeing the two women to leave on  
  
their mission. Buffy stared out the window, the first few rays of  
  
the sun burning into the morning sky. "I have to go," she said  
  
solemnly. She walked to Dawn touching her face. "I love you. You  
  
know that."  
  
Dawn nodded, teary eyed.  
  
"Take care of her. We'll be back soon." Buffy leaned down, kissing  
  
Emma's forehead, then turned away at a run through the door.  
  
To be contd. 


	15. Salvation

Title: Salvation (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 15)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox...Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: Buffy leaves to try and save Spike. Gwydion's plan is back in  
  
action. Dawn makes a discovery.  
  
Salvation  
  
As Buffy jogged down the sidewalk, the golden orb of the sun made its true appearance in the sky ahead of her. It seemed she was always running. That she never had enough moments lying in her bed or nights curled around him. It was always running. Always fighting. Always struggling. This was her life. Only thing that made it bearable was that it wasn't just hers anymore. This was about all of them. Every last one. But especially Emma. And especially Spike. Why had it taken so long to see that?  
  
*****  
  
"Gwydion?" Simon said quietly, entering his master's chambers.  
  
"Yes, Simon," Gwydion answered, fastening his cufflinks and reviewing his reflection in the mirror. A reflection he hadn't seen for over a century.  
  
"The new informant came to tell us that Buffy left her home at the first  
  
rays."  
  
"Did you ask about this child?" Gwydion asked, combing his silky, sandy  
  
hair.  
  
"The child was not with her. There are others in the house though. The  
  
witch and the shamed one left shortly after the Slayer. The sister and at least one other are still inside."  
  
"And Angel?"  
  
"I do not know, sir. A guard saw him leave late last night, but no one  
  
seems to know if he has returned."  
  
Gwydion chuckled. "Proud little Slayer just made the task at hand that much easier," he said, softly smiling.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Angel killed her mate. Rather than continue to accept his protection, her rashness won her over. She excused him."  
  
"Her mate?"  
  
"Spike," Gwydion commented, his voice full of annoyance.  
  
"Pardon, sir, but I thought..."  
  
"Will *any* of you understand the *simple* concept that he was attempting to play us?" Gwydion sighed, exasperated. "Spike belongs to the Slayer. He has no intention of betraying her. His death is... fortunate."  
  
"Are you certain he is dead?"  
  
"Well," Gwydion said, shrugging slightly, "even if he lives, he will be of no use today. After the child is dead, he is merely an embarrassment to the breed. Though I *am* dreadfully sorry that I will miss seeing his face as he watches me murder his precious little girl." With that, Gwydion turned on a heel, brushed past Simon and started out into the day.  
  
*****  
  
Buffy fumbled with the keys, dropping them twice before unlocking the door of the Magic Box and pushing her way through with a jingle. She locked the door carefully behind her and raced though the darkened, silent shop and down the basement stairs.  
  
The trip through the basement, the maze of tunnels below, seemed to take an eternity, even at a supernatural pace. Her concern had turned into desperation and her heart was exploding in her chest. She needed to be there last night. She needed to get there now. She dreaded what she would find when she arrived.  
  
Finally, she reached the back door to the crypt, opening it softly with a muted click. The room was dimly lit, a solitary near-dead candle flickering on the table next to the bed. Buffy followed the weak stream of light across to the pillows.  
  
What she saw was not something she would soon forget.  
  
Buffy raced to the bed. Spike was lying there, arms still at his sides.  
  
His face was white and sunken. He didn't move. Not even a twitch. Her  
  
hand clapped over her mouth as the tears stung her face. "Spike?" she  
  
whispered, touching his hand. It was cold. She had forgotten when his  
  
touch was this cold. "Spike?" She pressed her fingers hard to the inside of his wrist. Nothing. The panic began to creep in, bubbling though her veins. She adjusted her fingers and squeezed again.  
  
It was there.  
  
Spike was alive.  
  
Quickly, Buffy pulled open the drawer by the bed and it clattered to the  
  
floor. She rummaged through, even as it still fell, and grabbed two  
  
candles, lighting them from the one left next to the bed.  
  
In the light, the sight was worse.  
  
Spike was unnaturally pale. Even for Spike. He wore a sad expression. Her eyes scanned down his body, visually examining him just as he had done for her when she'd escaped from hell into this very spot. His shirt was soaked with blood. It spidered out along the sheets, spreading and pooling like mercury spilled from broken glass. Buffy forced down the sobs, shook the panic, and grabbed the collar of his shirt with both hands, ripping his shirt end to end. She pulled the tattered material aside terrified of what she would find.  
  
On his right side, just below his ribs, was an enormous jagged gash, half the length of her forearm and so deep she couldn't fathom surviving it even with her own healing powers. The edges of the wound were knitting together quickly. So he did have some accelerated recovery, she thought. Still. This was.. this was horrible.  
  
Buffy wet a cloth with a bottle of water from the make shift medical kit and laid it across his forehead. "It'll be OK, Spike," she whispered, over and over, hoping that if she said it enough times, it might just be true. She swallowed her terror and revulsion and set to work wiping all the blood from his skin so that she could get a better look at the wound.  
  
"Jeez, Spike," she said quietly as she worked her way around the edges with an antiseptic. "Can't do anything half way can you?" Her fingers worked gently, one cleaning the wound, the other stroking his hand. "Can't just die, hafta be a vampire. Can't just be a vampire, hafta be the Big Bad. Can't just be the Big Bad, hafta fall in love. Can't just fall in love, hasta be the Slayer. Can't just be in love with the Slayer, hasta love you back. Can't just love each other, hafta have prophesy baby. Can't just get in a fight, have to go get stabbed and try to die. Well, Spike," Her panic rambled senselessly across her lips, "Not going to let you go back to square one. You want it all, gonna hafta be here for it." Buffy fished the blue bottle from the knapsack, closing her eyes and wrapping her hands tight around the blue glass. She hoped, prayed, with every ounce of her energy that this would work. Buffy uncapped the bottle, pouring the foul smelling liquid into the wound, spreading it along the edges, delicately working around the livid skin. Her heart sank further by the moment. He never even flinched.  
  
  
  
"Come on, Spike," she whined. Where was Dawn when you needed a good  
  
whining? She slowly covered the wound in gauze, taping the edges  
  
delicately, "There are demons to be fought. Arguments to have. Lots and lots of making up to do. You have to help me out here, you...." Buffy thought hard. What would really get under his skin? "You Wanker," she said, pressing the last piece of tape in place. Still, he never moved.  
  
Buffy stared at him for a second, taking his hand between hers. "Don't you remember, Spike?" she asked, pressing her fingers between his. "You made a promise to a lady."  
  
The tears began again and the panic bubbled back to the surface. She  
  
reached down, fumbling through the bag for the red bottle. Quickly, she  
  
scurried up the bed, pushing his head up and piling pillows behind him.  
  
"Spike," she whispered softly in his ear. "You have to drink this. All of it." Buffy uncapped the bottle, running her finger along the rim until it was red with the infusion. She ran her finger softly over his lips, parting them gently. Pushing his head up with one hand and raising the bottle with the other, she managed to tilt the liquid into his mouth. Her blood. Slayer blood. She knew, even if he was still awake, she could never get him to drink from her. That was one of the things he would never do and no amount of torment of pain or anger would convince him. If he even knew now that her blood had been shed for him, he would be reluctant, if not refuse, to drink. Buffy knew it was the only real hope. She'd have gladly offered her last drop to bring him back.  
  
The elixir slid down his throat only because Buffy forced it. She never saw him drink or noticed him swallow, but the bottle was emptying all the same. It had to work. Had to buy them some time.  
  
When the bottle was empty, she reached across him, setting the empty red  
  
glass on the table and waited. Her hands glided over his face, tracing his cheeks, lips, eyes. "Spike, you have to come back," she whispered, fighting the tears and losing. They slipped along her cheeks and slid onto his face. "We've got work left to do. You're Emma's champion," she continued, sobbing. "You were mine before that. You're still mine." The words barely escaped through the hitching breaths. "Please, Spike. I love you. Please don't go..."  
  
He never moved.  
  
Buffy surrendered, letting the hurt and sadness take over. She curled in a ball next to him, her head buried in his shoulder, her arm draped over his chest and cried. Once again, she was losing someone she loved. Part of her world. The one thing she knew best is that, when it counted, she could not save her own world.  
  
*****  
  
"Wesley?" Angel muttered into the phone.  
  
"What?" Wesley panted, his throat sill raw and throbbing.  
  
"I need your help."  
  
Wesley was silent. "Why does this call surprise me?"  
  
"Look, you are the *last* person I really want to talk to," Angel huffed, annoyance rising, "but I can't contact Giles and I need your help."  
  
"With what?" Wesley hissed.  
  
"It's not for me. It's about Buffy. Well, really ... Spike."  
  
"Spike?" Wesley chuckled. "Why would you help Spike?"  
  
"Wesley, I don't have time for this," Angel snapped. The former Watcher was silent.  
  
"What is it?" he finally asked, the rasp of his voice grating against  
  
Angel.  
  
"The Peacemaker Prophesy."  
  
Wesley chuckled. "Myth."  
  
"No, real," Angel answered. "One *more* wrong for Mr. Research. Do you  
  
remember anything about the ... myth?"  
  
"It's about a creature..."  
  
"Not a creature. A little girl."  
  
"Usually depicted as sort of a seraphim. The myth says that she is the one to unite the worlds, end conflict, resolve wars between dimensions.."  
  
" I know all that," Angel said," Do you remember how?"  
  
"How?"  
  
"It's like a nursery rhyme I can't remember. The Peacemaker has.. power."  
  
"Right," Wesley said, as if vaguely remembering. His annoyance and shock being replaced by his ingrained sense of duty. "I've never seen the Prophesy. Not sure anyone actually has, but the story goes that the  
  
Peacemaker could speak to all creatures, heal all wounds suffered in her  
  
name..."  
  
"That's what I was looking for," Angel exclaimed, as if an old song lyric had been remembered.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I'll have to explain later," the Vampire answered. He was quiet, trying to swallow his pride. "Thank you, Wesley."  
  
"Right." The phone line clicked dead.  
  
*****  
  
"Xander?" Dawn screamed, her tone caught between fear and awe. "Xander?"  
  
She heard footsteps stampeding up the stairs and a split second later, he appeared panting in the doorway. "What's wrong?" he breathed, leaning against the doorframe. Dawn was in the center of the room, carrying a still fussy Emma. But the room had changed. Xander walked in, eyes wide, trying to take in the sight.  
  
"Why are there butterflies all over the place?" he asked, watching them  
  
come in through the crack in the window. Hundreds of them, lined along the crib, surrounding Dawn in concentric rings.  
  
"I don't think they're butterflies," Dawn said, almost afraid to breathe.  
  
"What do you mean not butterflies? They're all... butterfly-y."  
  
"They have faces," Dawn said, as one landed on Emma and looked at Dawn with tiny, kind eyes.  
  
"Like bug faces?"  
  
"No, like people faces."  
  
"Dawn, I think you've been awake too long," Xander said, walking toward the window. The entire side of the house was covered in the creatures, quietly fluttering their hypnotic, coloured wings. Xander leaned over to the sill and one hopped in front of him. "They have faces!" he gasped, stepping back. He grabbed the top of the window, about to push it flush to the sill.  
  
"No!" Dawn snapped. Xander looked at her oddly. "I... I think these are the fairies."  
  
"Fairies?"  
  
"Buffy wants them here."  
  
"But there are.." Xander looked out the window again, " thousands of them."  
  
"They're supposed to help Emma." Dawn was quiet for a moment. "Xander, if there are so many of them here, maybe something is happening."  
  
"Like what? Fairypalooza?" Xander snarked. Dawn smirked her best  
  
imitation Spike smirk.  
  
"You need to go find Buffy," Dawn ordered, making her way to the crib and setting Emma down. The fairies immediately encircled the crib and fluttered from Dawn.  
  
" I can't leave you alone."  
  
"Believe me, I've got company," Dawn replied. "Emma is more important right now. We need Buffy. Go and find her quick."  
  
"What if..."  
  
"Xander, hurry," Dawn began to whine. Xander took a long look at the girl. Too much like her sister sometimes. He turned from the window and fled out the door.  
  
To be contd. 


	16. The Race

Title: The Race (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 16)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: Buffy grieves for Spike and hopes this is not the end. Anya  
  
finally finds Giles and gets some disturbing news. Xander races to find  
  
Buffy, but will it be in time? Gwydion appears at Buffy's house and only Dawn is home.  
  
The Race  
  
Buffy's eyes fluttered open at the feel of his lips against her forehead. She had cried herself to utter exhaustion and fallen asleep curled against him. Slowly, she raised her head, afraid to look, afraid that she was back in the dream where she was so alone and so afraid and he came to her in her bed and made the world stop...hurting.  
  
"Spike?" she whispered, finally bringing herself to look at his face. To get lost again in his eyes.  
  
"Hello, Pet," he answered, brushing the tear-matted hair from her cheeks.  
  
"Are you ... alive? Well, as alive as you were?"  
  
"Seems that way, Love," he answered, his palm still pressed to her cheek.  
  
"Do you remember anything?"  
  
"Not very much. Poofter needs to learn proper swordsmanship," Spike  
  
groaned, a hand over the bandage. He pushed himself up and Buffy sat next to him, trying to steady him with a hand on his back. "Still not feeling right."  
  
"The cure... it's only temporary. We need to get you home. Willow and Tara went to find a doctor."  
  
"The cure?" Spike asked, looking closely at her face.  
  
"Tara made a potion for the cut. And one you had to drink,"' Buffy said, looking down at her hands.  
  
"What was it, Pet?" Spike asked, torn between gratefulness and fear.  
  
"Mostly blood and some herbs. Tara charged it, but she promised it was only good magic."  
  
"I trust that it was from Glenda," Spike sputtered. "What blood?"  
  
"Pig's blood."  
  
Spike opened and closed his hands, feeling the fire in his veins. He looked over at Buffy, following her eyes to her hands and one neatly bandaged wrist. "Pig's blood?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Buffy looked at him like a child caught peeking at her Christmas presents. "With a chaser," she muttered.  
  
"Buffy, you didn't..." he asked, picking up her hand, turning her bandaged wrist in his palm.  
  
"I had to," she said quietly. "Spike, you were almost dead. I know what Slayer blood can do."  
  
"You shouldn't have done that, Love," he whispered, his fingers tracing the bandage on her arm. He looked at her distraught face, not wanting to hurt her anymore. "But thank you."  
  
"I couldn't let you die," she answered, her eyes tearing again. "He almost killed you." Spike watched her face cloud with sadness like a storm rolling across the horizon. Didn't she know that she broke his heart every time she cried? He pulled her against him and stroked her hair as exhaustion and fear and hurt came out in sobs.  
  
"S'alright, Love," he whispered," We'll set things right. Always do."  
  
"I made him leave," she sobbed. Spike pulled her up so that they were face to face, but his arm stayed wrapped tightly around her.  
  
"Angel?"  
  
"I couldn't... I couldn't look at him."  
  
"I can't say that I'm not glad that you weren't thrilled to have him round, but who's with Emma?"  
  
"For now, Dawn and Xander. Should be safe because it's daytime. Willow and Tara should be back there soon. We'll be back before sunset if I have to carry you myself," she said, trying to smile.  
  
"Think I'll manage," Spike commented, falling back into her eyes. "You  
  
think it's safe?" Something was bugging him. Something about the daylight.  
  
"Emma? Should be for now, but we need to get back," Buffy answered, her  
  
soft palms pressing against his cheeks.  
  
"How long, Buffy?"  
  
"How long what?"  
  
"How long will Tara's cure.. last?"  
  
"I don't know," Buffy answered quietly, her hands dropping, her eyes  
  
following. It occurred to both that this moment was happening on borrowed time.  
  
"Was I... dead?"  
  
"No," she answered with confidence. "But close."  
  
"Buffy?" Spike said, sliding his hand under her chin and lifting her eyes to his. "It'll be alright. I love you. Always."  
  
"Every day?"  
  
"Every day," he answered, kissing the tip of her nose.  
  
*****  
  
The blue sedan pulled up to the curb around the corner from the Slayer's  
  
home. No need to be obvious, even if there'd be nothing to fear by the time he sat, once again, behind the wheel. The engine clicked off and the keys jingled as he slid them into the pocket of his perfectly pressed navy blue suit.  
  
Gwydion stepped out onto the curb, whistling to himself. An old lullaby. One his wife had sung to their children before tucking them in each night. What was it again? The name escaped him, but the tune haunted him nightly.  
  
It was a lifetime ago. Several lifetimes.  
  
As he walked down the sidewalk, the tune played through his mind, the breath whistling over his lips and for a moment, he was taken back. His beautiful wife. His love. Sitting on a stool between two small beds singing in her near perfect soprano to two beautiful children. Both small and blonde and sharp as whips. How far away that was? How long a journey since the night he had locked the door of his shop and taken the short cut through the alley to the florist to pick up daisies for his love? She adored daisies. He had told her millions of times that he could afford roses, but she always said daisies were more.. beautiful. Whatever she wished, he thought.  
  
Gwydion had met his maker that night in that alley. His master.  
  
Everything changed in the blink of an eye. In the draining of blood. In one deadly kiss. The daisies would never be delivered. His two children, now near grown, would never see him again, or hear his stories, or smell the smoke of his pipe. When he rose again, none of it mattered. Only blood and hunger and chaos.  
  
All these years later, it still didn't matter.  
  
He didn't even think twice about killing this child, despite the connection.  
  
Softly, Gwydion rapped on the door.  
  
*****  
  
"Giles?" Anya exclaimed, finally hearing the Watcher's voice on the other end of the phone line.  
  
"Anya, what is it?" He sounded exhausted, annoyed, nervous.  
  
"Where are you?" Anya asked. She had left messages all over Great Britain, but he was only just now calling her back.  
  
"To be honest, I'm in New York."  
  
"New York?" Anya asked, momentarily forgetting the urgency of her call.  
  
"I'm on my way there. Lay over. I have news on the Prophesy."  
  
"What news?" Anya asked.  
  
"Anya, I should really speak to Buffy and Spike first."  
  
"Stupid custom," Anya snarked.  
  
"So, was insulting my manners the reason for your..," she could hear papers rustling in the background, "twenty-seven messages?"  
  
"No, no," she said, exasperated. "Someone came to Buffy's house wanting to see Emma. He said he was a Watcher. Something about a mark."  
  
"The star."  
  
"You know about it?"  
  
"Well, yes," he answered. She could picture him wiping his glasses. The thought made her smile. "But I'm not sure how anyone else would know."  
  
"We checked her over and didn't find a mark."  
  
"That's because it hasn't been made yet."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'll explain when I get there, Anya," Giles said, sounding more rushed by the moment.  
  
"Wait!" she yelped into the phone.  
  
"I'm still here." Words laced with affectionate annoyance.  
  
"The man who came said he was working with you on the Prophesy."  
  
Giles was completely silent. "Anya, I've been in seclusion."  
  
"I know *that*. Hello. Twenty-seven messages."  
  
"Seclusion implies *alone*, "Giles responded. "What was this man's name?"  
  
Anya thought hard. "Welsh. Or English. One of those Anglo-Saxon names. What was it?" She tapped her fingers against the phone. "Gwydion!" she exclaimed in delight as the name popped into her head.  
  
"Gwydion?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Anya, listen to me closely. Gwydion is *not* a Watcher. He never was."  
  
"But he knows..."  
  
"He may know quite a bit, but not from me."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"There is no time, Anya. I will be there tonight. Whatever you do, do  
  
*not* let Gwydion near Emma. Nor Spike, for that matter."  
  
"Spike?"  
  
"Just please trust me, Anya." Giles was worried, exasperated, angry at the state of worldwide aviation.  
  
"Giles, Spike is.."  
  
"Spike is what?"  
  
"He might be...dead."  
  
"What?" the Watcher asked in shock, his fear increasing by the second.  
  
"Buffy's gone to find him. He was stabbed last night."  
  
"Stabbed?"  
  
"It was an accident. Angel stabbed him in a fight. He's mortal."  
  
"Get to the house, Anya. Get Buffy there. It's happening. Gwydion *must* not get near Emma. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I've got to go." The phone clicked and Anya heard only silence.  
  
*****  
  
Xander raced along the streets as fast as his four cylinder could go.  
  
Leaving Dawn alone was bad enough, but hearing her sounding all the world like Buffy, channeling her sister, convinced him that Dawn might be on to something.  
  
He wondered, as he drove, how he ended up here. The rest of them made  
  
sense. Buffy was the Slayer, the Chosen One. Spike, as much as he hated to admit it, was destined for her. The prophesied Vampire whose love for the Slayer would change the world. Sickening thought. Tara was a witch. A very nice witch, but a fairly powerful one in her own right. Willow, his little Willow, had destroyed the town with her power and were it not for intervention, she would have destroyed the world. Even Dawn was a mystical ball of light, who, built from the Slayer's own flesh, could open the doors to the dimensions.  
  
Even Anya. Even though she seemed to be human and he did truly, madly,  
  
deeply love her, she had a thousand years of knowledge and experience and power on him.  
  
What was he doing as part of this? A hanger-on to a cosmic play. The lone audience to the show that was destined to change the world.  
  
At least he was still a part of it.  
  
Xander skidded to a halt in front of the Magic Box, running into the shop. Anya was behind the counter, grabbing her bag and jacket and looking like she was late for a very important date.  
  
"Ahn, what's wrong?" he asked, jogging to the counter.  
  
"I just spoke to Giles..."  
  
"What did he say?"  
  
"Not to let Gwydion near Emma. That he's not a Watcher. We need to get  
  
back to Buffy's." Anya was silent, looking at Xander. "Who's with Emma?"  
  
"Dawn," Xander said. The panic overtook him as he bolted from the counter. "Ahn, call Dawn. Tell her not to open the door and to lock herself in with Emma. I'm going to get Buffy and hopefully Spike." Never thought I'd say that, he thought.  
  
"But what if..."  
  
"Anya, call her. Then go wait in the car." Anya nodded and Xander bolted down the basement steps.  
  
*****  
  
Dawn walked slowly down the stairs towards the door. The fairies were all over the room now and she was terrified, despite being fairly sure that they were there to help. A familiar face, any familiar face, might make it better. The knock came again as she made it to the landing.  
  
As Dawn reached for the door, the phone began to ring. She hesitated,  
  
wondering which was more important. The soft rap came again. The shrill ring of the phone. She decided that help in the flesh was worth more than the promise that it was coming. Softly, she reached for the knob.  
  
"Dawn?" that familiar, soothing voice. Looking at his face again brought back that same, nagging feeling. Like looking at an echo of someone she knew.  
  
"B...Buffy's not here," Dawn said, looking through the crack in the door.  
  
"May I come in and wait? It's rather urgent," Gwydion said, that charming smile playing across his ruggedly handsome features.  
  
Dawn thought for a moment, remembering how angry Buffy had been the first time. "It's really a bad time. Maybe you could come back?" she said, shyly.  
  
Gwydion frowned. "I'm afraid, my dear, that this is a very *good* time," he said with a grunt, pushing the door open. Dawn reeled back into the stairway, falling with a thud onto the bottom step. "And since you have already once invited me in..."  
  
"You... you're a... you're the vamp..." Dawn stuttered.  
  
"I would've thought you'd have come to terms with the idea of Vampires that walk in the daylight, " Gwydion taunted in his smooth London accent.  
  
"Why...?"  
  
"Oh, do relax, little girl. I've come for the child. Mind yourself and  
  
stay out of my way and I won't kill you," he said, shutting the door behind him and grabbing Dawn by the arm, hoisting her to her feet.  
  
"Leave.Emma.Alone," Dawn commanded, her fear overcome by the love of her  
  
niece.  
  
Gwydion laughed. "Or what?" he snarked. Dawn kicked the Vampire in the  
  
shins and ran into the living room, grabbing the vase from the end table and hurling it at him, catching him square on the shoulder. Gwydion looked shocked for a moment, then chuckled as Dawn raced for the weapons chest, tossing the wooden top open in a panicked rage.  
  
"Ah, ah, ah," Gwydion scolded, appearing behind the girl with lightening  
  
quickness. "I told you that, if you were good, I would not kill you. Why are you testing me?" He grabbed her by the back of her neck and pulled her from the chest, hurling her against the wall. Dawn's head cracked as she hit and her world began to spin. "Looks like you are a bit more feisty than I had given you credit for. Good for you. Maybe I can even find use for you, but for now," he continued, picking up her crumpled, dazed form and propping her in a chair, "I'll just have to tie you up and think about whether or not you are more useful to me as a Vampire or just.. dead."  
  
Gwydion grabbed a rope from the chest and began to bind the girl to the  
  
chair. The phone shrilly rang again. Dawn struggled to move and felt a  
  
thud. The world faded to black.  
  
To be contd. 


	17. Fear

Title: Fear (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 17)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: Buffy waits to see if the cure will work. Gwydion surprises Dawn while she is home alone. Xander and Anya try to help Buffy.  
  
Fear  
  
Buffy rummaged through an old dresser, locating one of what must have been a hundred plain black T-shirts that Spike owned. Diversification of wardrobe was something they needed to chat about once Emma was out of danger and the wound in Spike's gut was healed. Were it up to her, he could walk around shirtless for all eternity, but as PTA meetings might eventually be in their future, discussing the ins and outs of colour was looking more and more important.  
  
Spike sat on the edge of the bed, feet dangling over the sides looking like a child recovering from having the wind knocked out of him. Buffy walked to the bed and he looked up at her with those endless blue eyes. She saw something she rarely noticed in her lover. Fear. Her hand lifted to his face, feeling his soft skin, running her thumb along his cheekbone. For years now, it had been her that was afraid and time and time again, he was setting it right. Might be time to return the favour.  
  
"Can you lift your arms?" Buffy asked, situating the shirt as she would one of Emma's. He obliged, wincing as his hands spread over his head and she pulled the shirt on, mussing his hair as she did. It was a heartbreaking sight. He looked so much like a boy in that moment. Like the last one hundred and twenty odd years were all a lie and he was really just someone's child who had been hurt in a fight. "It's going to be alright, Spike. I won't let you die."  
  
Spike stared at her with startled blue eyes and reached for her, pulling her against him, his head against her chest. He clung to her as she stroked his hair, the back of his neck, feeling her resolve strengthen. There was no way she was going to lose this. No way Emma was going to grow up not knowing.... Just not knowing. Buffy pulled away and forced him to look at her.  
  
"Spike, listen, OK?" He stared at her helplessly. "I know that you're  
  
afraid. I'm afraid. But we have a little girl at home and we need to go and make sure she's OK. If you aren't up to it yet, I'll...."  
  
"No," he interrupted. "Don't care if I die. Not getting Emma." Spike  
  
pushed himself to his feet, Buffy steadying him.  
  
"You aren't going to die," Buffy said, resolutely.  
  
"Buffy," he sighed," we have to face facts, Love..."  
  
"No," she answered. "There are no facts on the Hellmouth. How many times have I been dead now?" She smiled softly at him and he returned it, getting lost in her as he always did. He leaned down, his lips brushing hers. "Besides," she whispered, his mouth still touching her lips, "after we save her this time, I'm sure we'll still have lots of saving-ness left. You have to be around if you want it all."  
  
"You know I want you, Buffy," Spike purred, holding her hands. "You know I love you. Regardless."  
  
"Well, don't make me have to go to another dimension and find you then." He smiled at her in reply, kissing her once again. Just to feel her against him. Just to remember it. Just in case.  
  
A rap at the door turned both of their heads, startling them to attention. "Who's there?" Spike called, the fear back in his voice.  
  
"It's me. Xander."  
  
"Come in," Buffy chimed, turning towards the back door of the crypt. Spike took a few steps, getting his bearings.  
  
"Buff," Xander panted. "Spike?" Spike nodded at the whelp. "You're  
  
alive?"  
  
"He needs help. Have you heard from Willow and Tara?" Buffy interrupted.  
  
"No, but we need to get back. Pronto."  
  
"What's wrong?" Spike asked, beginning to feel the fire of Buffy's blood  
  
coursing through his veins.  
  
"Anya talked to Giles and Gwydion is not a watcher..."  
  
"What?" Spike asked, flabbergasted. "Gwydion? A Watcher?"  
  
Xander and Buffy looked at Spike. "He came to the house and spoke to Dawn. Said he was a Watcher," Buffy stuttered, staring at Spike's worried expression.  
  
"He's the sodding master Vampire," Spike said, starting toward the door. He stumbled and Xander caught him. Spike thought about shrugging him off, but was grateful at that moment, that he was not face first on the floor. "We need to go," Spike continued, trying to cover his weakness. Buffy came up next to Spike, putting his arm over her shoulder and Xander steadied his other side. They began back through the tunnels, Spike gaining strength as he moved.  
  
"Gwydion's the master?" Xander asked, looking at Spike's face. For a  
  
second, he almost felt... worried about the vamp. That thought scared him more than anything.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How did you find out?"  
  
Spike thought a moment. "Drusilla," he answered, choosing honesty as the best route. Buffy's eyes shot up at Spike. "Pet, I had no chance to tell you. She came last night. Tried to turn me again."  
  
Jealousy boiled in Buffy, but she held it down. This was not the time to fight. "What else did *Dru* say?" Buffy asked, the envy coming out in her voice. The tone did not go unnoticed by either Xander or Spike. Xander shot the blond Vampire a look that said 'If you live though this, she might just kill you.'  
  
"Well, after I tossed her across the room with my last remaining strength," Spike said in his own defense, "she told me about Gwydion and that he would come for Emma on the day of the fairy's ball. Haven't quite sussed that part out yet."  
  
"Uh, the fairy's ball?" Xander asked. " I orginally came to get you because the house is covered in fairies. Thousands of them. All over the room, the side of the house. Dawn sent me to get you."  
  
"Is the Niblet alone?" Spike inquired, suddenly finding the strength to  
  
walk alone. Xander nodded back at Spike. "It's happening now. We need to go. " He picked up the pace, his blood, her blood, now pumping steadily in his veins.  
  
"Oh God." Buffy whispered. "I should run ahead."  
  
"Car's out front," Xander answered. "I'll get you there."  
  
"Now!" Spike snarled, a few steps in front.  
  
*****  
  
Gwydion finished binding the girl in a maze of ropes designed to hurt no  
  
matter which way the teen wiggled. She sat, head slumped forward in the  
  
chair. He clapped his hands, satisfied, and began to prowl the lower level, looking for other potential problems. Slowly, he descended into the basement. Washer. Dryer. Cleaning supplies. Oh, and an un-slept in cot. Looks as if the guard was right. No more Angel to be concerned with.  
  
"Let the games begin," Gwydion said to the air, smiling smugly and emerging into the kitchen.  
  
*****  
  
"Can't this sodding thing move any faster?" Spike snapped from the back  
  
seat. Buffy laid a hand on his leg as he clutched white-knuckled at the  
  
headrest of Anya's seat. "Pull over and let me drive."  
  
"Ow, the hair!" Anya huffed, pulling forward.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Spike," Buffy muttered, pushing him gently back against the seat. "Save a little for when we get there, OK?" She found herself honestly concerned that there wasn't just a time limit to the potion but maybe a power limit. Kind of like if locked in a vault, you conserve more air by whispering rather than screaming. Not that she knew if it were true or not. Worried her all the same. Spike reluctantly complied, instead toying nervously with Buffy's fingers.  
  
"What's the plan once we get there?" Xander asked.  
  
"Get the weapons. Wait for Gwydion," Buffy answered.  
  
"Isn't it daylight?" Anya asked. "Isn't he a vampire?"  
  
"Did *Drusilla* tell you anything to explain *that*?" Buffy said, the envy rising again. Spike looked at her, rather touched by the overt display of jealousy.  
  
"No," Spike answered, calmly. "But there are several charms in existence that would allow this."  
  
"Thanks, Giles," Xander snarked.  
  
"What is it with you bloody people? Know something and suddenly you're a sodding Wanker?" Spike erupted. Buffy could not help but giggle.  
  
"Like the Gem of Amara?" Buffy asked, tossing that one out there. Maybe keeping him annoyed was the best way to keep him alive.  
  
"No," he continued sarcastically. "The Gem of Amara confers invincibility."  
  
"You didn't seem too invincible to me," Buffy remarked. Spike shot a  
  
warning glance at her, smirking his patented, trademark Spike!Smirk. None other like it.  
  
"Just warming up," he quipped, his accent becoming more pronounced as he  
  
became more offended. "There are several charms and talismans that confer the ability to walk during the day, but most all but negate a Vampire's powers. Bloody waste of time, if you ask me," Spike finished.  
  
"So we may be up against an otherwise powerless vamp?" Xander asked,  
  
hopefully.  
  
"What's the point?" Anya asked.  
  
Buffy and Spike looked at each other, recognition crossing their faces.  
  
"Element of surprise. Separate the heard. Attack the weakest one," Spike muttered, under his breath.  
  
"Dawn," Buffy gasped. "Can this thing going any faster?"  
  
*****  
  
Gwydion started up the stairs, making no noise and he slowly crept along the carpet. He ducked his head in each room of the second level, assessing the situation. Making sure every room was cleared. As he closed the door to Buffy's room, he heard it. A tiny, mewling cry, as if from a lost kitten. Gwydion smiled.  
  
The prize.  
  
Slowly, he padded down the hall, following the sound to the closed door of the child's room. As he reached for the knob with one elegant, ringed hand, a desperate cry rang out. The sound of fear and need and basic want. It was music. Torturous, horrible, symphonic. Her screams made him want to savour this all the more.  
  
Gwydion slid open the door with a gentle click. Only some furniture and a crib with a small crying baby. He felt something strange and noticed the odd wallpaper. Thousands of butterflies suspended against dark and light blue walls. The child wailed, her legs kicking, her arms punching wildly at the air. Beautiful music. Slowly, he approached the crib, staring down at the girl with wide and wondering eyes.  
  
"So, pretty," he said, sliding his hand under her neck. He could feel the burn and hiss as his ring touched her soft skin. The child wailed again. Louder. More desperate. " I should have thought nothing less of Spike. Especially not with his beautiful mate." He slid his hand from under the girl and stroked her downy blonde head. "Those eyes. I would know them anywhere. You are mostly definitely his girl," he whispered, almost comforting the child. The game was more fun if they trusted before the kill. The baby looked up at him with fearful and teary eyes. For one split second, he could hear her voice in his head.  
  
'Stop this. You do not want this.'  
  
A beautiful, rich, melodic voice. It angered the Vampire more. Gwydion  
  
lifted his other hand, sliding it into the crib, one positioned on either side of the child's head. Snap her tiny neck, he thought. End this.  
  
As he moved to touch her again, the walls came to life. Thousands of tiny wings fluttered and time stood still.  
  
*****  
  
The car screeched to a halt in front of Buffy and Spike's home. Spike's door was open and he had hopped to the curb before the car had completely stopped. A newfound burst of strength, driven by his lover's blood and sheer adrenaline coursed through Spike's veins, igniting his muscles. He ran up the walk, Buffy at his heels, Xander and Anya further behind.  
  
The door was slightly ajar. "Here," Spike muttered, slamming it open.  
  
"He's here."  
  
Spike's immediate lunge at the stairs was stopped dead by what he saw from the corner of his eye. Buffy almost ran into the back of him, her head whipping, following his gaze.  
  
Dawn was strapped to a chair, chest heaving, hands tethered to her feet and the chair by an elaborate and torturous system of ropes. Her eyes  
  
fluttered, neither awake nor asleep. Spike stood in horror, looking at his Niblet. She was as much his as Emma. Not of his flesh but of his heart. He shook his head as if to clear it, and grabbed Buffy's shoulder. Buffy was frozen, staring at her sister in wide-eyed horror.  
  
"Buffy?" Spike said. Buffy did not move. Xander and Anya appeared in the entryway and backstepped at the sight.  
  
"Jesus, Dawn," Xander gasped, not able to move.  
  
"Buffy?" Spike said again, this time with more force. He grabbed her other shoulder, shaking her. Buffy snapped and looked up at him. "Take care of the Niblet. I'll handle Gwydion."  
  
"But you..." she stuttered.  
  
"I'll be fine. Tend to your sis." Spike bolted up the stairs in twos.  
  
Buffy watched him disappear as Xander came up next to her.  
  
"Xander, please help..." she muttered, already disappearing up the stairs.  
  
"We'll take care of her," Xander called after her.  
  
*****  
  
Spike felt it just before he reached Emma's door. Like the consistency of the air had changed. It became as if he was wading chest deep in the sea. Still, he pushed forwards, trudging toward the door at a fraction of the pace of his heart, his pumping lungs. He heard Buffy scrambling up the stairs behind him in a flurry of movement. He turned just as her body slowed and he watched the look on her face change from resolution to fear. Spike almost went back to grab Buffy as she froze, arms reaching for the door, but he knew he had to get to Emma.  
  
The door swung slowly open.  
  
A man in a navy suit was bending over the baby, frozen. Spike could see his little girl moving slowly around the edge of Gwydion's arm. Hear her helpless whimpers and thousands of fluttering wings. Spike lunged toward the figure, but it seemed more of just a lurching step. The fury, the rage, filled him as he got closer, seeing Gwydion's hands on either side of Emma's pretty head. "Never," he muttered, but it was barely a hushed whisper.  
  
Spike reached for the sandy haired man, yanking him back with what little force he could muster. Pulling him toward the door. Feeling his own face change with the fear and fury and desire to destroy that he had quelled since Africa. He felt the killer rise as he hoisted the man through the door, into the hall. Spike never looked at his face. No. He didn't want to see the monster's face until he could end it.  
  
The fairies' grip loosened. Buffy sprang to life and darted past Spike  
  
toward Emma's room as the baby began to wail again in terror and need.  
  
Spike spun, hurling Gwydion at the stairwell, his perfectly polished shoes glinting in the sunlight as the older vamp upended and toppled down the stairs. The sandy haired man shook his head, the effects of the fall and the fairies clouding his mind. All he could see was the door in front of him, but he could feel Spike behind. Hear the heavy sound of boots against the wood of the steps. Gwydion thought that his only chance was to run.  
  
But what honour was there in running?  
  
Besides, he had waited for over a century for the look on Spike's face.  
  
That one moment that would make it all worth the ride.  
  
Gwydion felt the boot to his kidney, then hands grab him under his arms,  
  
propelling him at the door with supernatural strength. The sandy haired man chuckled as his face hit the door with a crack. Xander loosened the last knot on Dawn. Anya held Dawn's raw hands in silence, Buffy scooped Emma into her arms and ran back to the top of the stairs, all watching the blond Vampire unleashing his rage mixed forever with his Slayer's blood, on the man who would kill their daughter.  
  
"Bloody well do it," Gwydion spoke, his nose pressed to the wood of the  
  
door. Buffy stopped, turning, feeling something.. Spike ceased his  
  
pummeling, listening. "On with it, Wills."  
  
Spike grabbed Gwydion's shoulders and spun him toward the stairs until they stood face to face. Eye to eye. A cracked, raw grin broke on the sandy haired man's face, blood trickling from a cut in his eye. Spike's eyes flew open and he stepped back, shaking his head, falling onto the bottom step.  
  
"Spike?" Buffy called, stepping forward. Spike looked up at the man in  
  
horror.  
  
"F...father?"  
  
To be contd. 


	18. Becoming

Title: Becoming (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 18)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: Spike confronts Gwydion and finds out the identity of the sandy  
  
haired killer. Buffy races to save Emma while Spike deals with his  
  
adversary.  
  
Becoming  
  
"F...father?" Spike muttered, staring wide-eyed at the creature before him. He was struck dumb and motionless at the sight. In my line, he thought. Giles said in my line. Vampires. Bloody hell, not my father. Please not my father.  
  
The others were deadly silent, watching the two Vampires in front of them. One masquerading as a man, the other becoming. Buffy stared from the top of the steps, her eyes flipping from Spike to Gwydion. Her daughter's champion. Her daughter's killer. The same endless blue eyes. The same razor sharp cheekbones. The same dauntless presence. A shiver shot up her spine.  
  
A horrified scream broke the silence. Spike's head instinctively whipped around at his daughter's cry and Buffy jumped, startled to attention, clutching the terrified child against her chest. "Emma," Buffy muttered, still too stunned to move.  
  
"Go," Spike called, pushing himself upright. "I've got this, Pet."  
  
"But..."  
  
"Go," Spike pleaded. Buffy ducked back behind the wall at the top of the stairs.  
  
"Named her after your mum," Gwydion said, cracked, bloody grin stretched  
  
across his face. Spike found himself nodding in reply, still shocked into silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw Xander pick up Dawn and carry her toward the kitchen.  
  
"Pretty tot," Gwydion continued, eyes still locked on Spike. Spike scanned his father's face, memories blasting through his head like old photographs. Peeking through the picture window as his parents kissed on the front step. His father's pipe. The feel of his suit as they crawled into his lap so he could tell them tales of the world. Daisies. "Did you honestly think I'd fall for it, Wills?" Gwydion said, still locked on Spike like boxers before the first bell. "Do you find me to be that bloody stupid?"  
  
"Couldn't tell. You were too busy hiding," Spike shot back. Gwydion  
  
chuckled.  
  
"And miss *this*?" the older vamp replied, patting his son's cheek.  
  
"Why?" Spike asked, scanning the man's face. Letting his eyes drop over his features, his clothing, his crisp white shirt, immaculately pressed pants, perfectly polished shoes. He'd always been fashionable, Spike thought, cringing even as the idea came to mind. Then he noticed it. Heavy silver. A serpent curled around the sun. A blood red ruby in the center.  
  
The amulet.  
  
"For our kind to flourish, she must die," Gwydion answered, simply.  
  
"Nothing personal."  
  
"Sorry, mate," Spike said, slamming Gwydion back to the door. "Very  
  
personal."  
  
"You and love. You've always been a sap, Wills," Gwydion commented,  
  
dramatically. "Shocked you made it this far." Spike was silent. Love had been his weakness, but also his greatest strength. The memories of this creature still flashed behind his eyes. Ice skating when he was six, clinging to his father's hand. Learning to ride a horse by galloping behind him. Watching him take care of mum. Spike had learned love from this beast that would condemn it. Well, the man before the beast. Gwydion laughed, startling Spike to attention. Spike's hand was clutched firmly around his throat.  
  
"You'd have me live," Gwydion guffawed.  
  
"Wha..?" Spike stuttered, still unable to string together a coherent  
  
thought.  
  
"Look at you, you utter...sap. What a sorry excuse for a Vampire. You look at me and see that ponce who coddled you when you were a sorry excuse for a boy and doted over that woman as if she could do no wrong." Gwydion was laughing as if the thought itself had cracked him.  
  
Spike stared at him in confusion and rage. "You...I..." he stuttered, not quite sure where it began or where it ended.  
  
Gwydion's cackle interrupted him. "You'd have me live," he repeated,  
  
looking at Spike with disgust. "You'd have me meet you at the pub and throw back a pint and trade 'How I Became a Vampire' stories while watching Manchester United and showing me pictures of your sodding tyke!" he exclaimed in amazement and exasperation. "Redeem me with the ever present power of your lily-white love. You bloody Poof! What happened to the dark warrior of legend? The evil prince that Drusilla rambles on about? Hmm, *Spike*?" Gwydion spat Spike's name at his son. Spike shook in startled confusion, which was slowly turning to offense, boiling into rage.  
  
"Well, let me tell you how this works, son," Gwydion continued, pulling  
  
Spike's hand from his throat and dropping at his side, unceremoniously. "I am *not* a traitor to the breed. As it is your destiny to protect the girl, it is mine to destroy her. I could give a tinkers damn about you or the bloody bint you decided to play house with..." Spike slammed Gwydion hard to the wall, eliciting another cracked smile from the older Vampire. "But I came here to kill the girl. So, if you don't plan to do anything about it, then I suggest you step aside." Gwydion finished, pushing Spike with all of the human strength that he could muster. Spike did not budge.  
  
"Do you understand, boy? Even if I do not kill her today, I *will* kill  
  
her."  
  
"Over my bleeding corpse," Spike hissed. Gwydion chuckled again, looking down Spike's body. The wound in his gut was seeping through the bandages, creating a slow, growing circle in the fabric of Spike's shirt.  
  
"Ironic, isn't it?" Gwydion laughed. "You bleeding, and, of course, being a corpse."  
  
Fury ignited Spike's blood, Buffy's blood, and he tossed Gwydion back  
  
against the door with a thud, grabbing the amulet in one hand. "Right  
  
then," Spike said. "Always hated the battles I knew I could win." Spike grabbed the talisman from Gwydion's chest, ripping it off and tossing it toward the living room. Immediately, his father's face changed and Spike could feel the killer inside of him rising, shifting his features, turning him from man to monster.  
  
"Let the games begin," Gwydion blustered, taking the first swing.  
  
*****  
  
Buffy heard a crash and the sound of wood cracking. Emma was hysterical, clinging to Buffy, her little hands clutching Buffy's hair, her mouth parted and desperate, mewling cries escaping into the air. Buffy felt the panic rise like a tide in her veins. Spike. Don't know how long Tara's potion will last. His father. His damned father. The real one. Can't let him do this alone. Not sure if he can.  
  
Emma clung to Buffy and she bounced her instinctively, trying to quiet her. "Look, little one," Buffy whispered, trying to get the baby's attention. The little girl's head swung back and she caught Buffy's eyes with hers. "I need to help your daddy, OK? I need you to be very quiet and I'm going to try and get you to Aunt Anya and Uncle Xander." Mommy's going to run the gauntlet, she thought, hearing the sound of glass breaking and a stream of words spit in accents so thick it sounded like a completely different language. Still, she had to help him and there was no way Buffy was leaving Emma alone again.  
  
As if Emma had been conversing with a friend, she stopped, listening to her mother and stayed perfectly still. Her little mouth closed and she looked up at Buffy with soft and wise and wet blue eyes. Endless blue eyes. "Good girl," Buffy whispered, kissing Emma's head. She stared at the landing, her heart pounding. Just as she stepped to make her move, three of the fairies hopped from the wall and landed, one of each of Emma's arms and one on her head. Buffy was alarmed, but relaxed as a small kind face blinked up at her.  
  
"Let's go," Buffy whispered, taking a deep breath and bolting around the  
  
corner, fleeing down the steps, pausing just as the lower level came into view. The two Vampires were locked intensely in the dining room against the shattered remains of the table. Buffy moved as far to the right as she could. The fairies began to sing or hum or make some noise. Everything still moved, but it seemed as if it faded. Or they faded. Buffy clutched Emma closer and streaked down the remaining steps, through the living room and into the kitchen. The world sharpened again. Buffy wasn't sure if it had been the fairies little trick or the battle that had distracted Gwydion, but she was thankful to have found refuge either way.  
  
The kitchen was empty. Buffy flung open the basement door with her free  
  
hand, hurrying in and tearing down the stairs. Dawn was laid out in the  
  
cot, awake but groggy, her head on Xander's leg. Anya sat at Dawn's feet, nervously toying with her own fingers.  
  
"Buffy," Xander gasped as the woman appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "What in the.. what's going on up there?"  
  
The crashing of wood and glass and the thudding of bodies slamming into  
  
walls and floors with supernatural force echoed above them. "I have to  
  
help," Buffy said, feeling resolve building again. "Dawn. Is she..?"  
  
"I'm fine," Dawn groaned, rolling towards her sister. "Headache-y."  
  
"Is Emma alright?" Anya asked, standing in front of Buffy.  
  
Buffy looked down at the silent little girl with the frightened blue eyes. "I think she's alright. Just scared."  
  
"Know that one," Dawn mumbled. Anya stretched her arms towards Buffy,  
  
offering to take the baby. Buffy clung to her daughter for a moment, not wanting to leave her. Never wanting to leave. Another crash and a torrent of angry words came from above. Reluctantly, Buffy handed the baby to Anya, kissing Emma's forehead as she gave her up. The fairies fluttered over to the cot, alighting on Emma once again.  
  
"I'll tell you when it's safe," Buffy said, taking off at a run towards the basement door.  
  
*****  
  
Willow and Tara slowly opened the kitchen door, hearing the ruckus from the street out front. Buffy burst through the basement door, just in time to see them head around the corner to peek into the dining room. "Willow?" Buffy called.  
  
"What's with all the fightiness?" Willow asked, heading back towards Buffy.  
  
"Get downstairs. Don't leave until I tell you," Buffy responded, gesturing at the door.  
  
"Buffy, what..." Tara stuttered.  
  
"Go!" Buffy ordered. They turned toward the door, knowing that it was best not to question the Slayer at times like this. Just as they were about to disappear down the steps, Buffy called after them. "Tara?"  
  
Tara turned, looking at Buffy. Seeing the fear under the resolve. "Yeah."  
  
"Did you find...help?"  
  
"Yes," Tara answered, smiling hopefully. "But it's another Vampire, so he can't be here until after sundown."  
  
"Good."  
  
The girls disappeared down the steps.  
  
*****  
  
Buffy ran for the weapons chest, grabbing both sword and stake and headed for the staircase. What she saw was the most incredibly powerful and heartbreakingly sad displays she could imagine. They were both in game face, bloody, torn, battling at full force across what was left of the dining room. A gash disguised Gwydion's face with a horrible red mask, but his blue eyes pierced the haze. Spike. Spike's shirt was soaked through and his face was a mixture of horror and rage and pain. The match seemed almost even. Blow for blow. Kick for kick. Word for word. Hurt for hate.  
  
Buffy ran into the room, throwing herself into the fray with a kick to  
  
Gwydion's chest. The older Vampire flew across the room, smacking into the far wall. Spike spun, looking at Buffy as if shaken from a nightmare. He scanned her instinctively for injury and then for memory. "Buffy," he whispered, as if he had not seen her in years.  
  
"Spike," she answered, touching his arm. Gwydion was stirring, pushing  
  
himself upright against the wall. "Spike, are you.."  
  
"Have to do this, Pet," he said, his eyes full of stinging unshed tears.  
  
She didn't understand. At least not at first. They had always fought as one. "Please, Love."  
  
Buffy studied his face. His longing, sad eyes. She stepped back,  
  
stretching her hands forward, offering him the sword in her left hand, the stake in her right. He reached forward, taking the stake, his fingers brushing hers as he grabbed hold. "I love you, Pet."  
  
"Always," she answered, backing towards the staircase as Gwydion found  
  
purchase on the rug and lunged forward, knocking Spike to the floor. Spike growled, the rage coming back. There were no words left to say. His father had died so many years ago, and the beast that stole his body was nothing more than a common demon. One he and Buffy had battled every night. No pipe smoke. No stories. No daisies. Nothing.  
  
Spike grunted, throwing Gwydion over his head with a push of the legs. The older Vampire was tossed into the wall like a rag doll, sliding to the floor in a heap. Spike flipped to his feet, jumping towards the struggling pile, stake raised in his right hand.  
  
Gwydion laughed.  
  
Spike hesitated.  
  
"You can't do it," Gwydion said, reaching down, grabbing for a splintered table leg.  
  
"Spike!" Buffy yelled from the stairs. Spike spun, kicking the wood from Gwydion's hand.  
  
"You'd *still* have me live."  
  
Spike shot a glance at Buffy. She stared at him with sad eyes, finally  
  
understanding. Why this, she thought. Why take away this too? It seemed everything good had been taken from them. Every memory. Everything but each other.  
  
"Spike stepped toward Gwydion, planting a boot in his gut. Gwydion laughed, coughing, blood trickling from his lip. "Son," he whispered, staring up at Spike with clear and empty eyes.  
  
"You are not my father. My father is dead," Spike sputtered, leaning  
  
forward and plunging the stake into Gwydion's chest.  
  
*****  
  
Buffy ran into the dining room as Gwydion's shocked expression dissolved  
  
into a shower of ashes. Spike fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. Buffy skidded to her knees next to him, touching his face, turning it towards her. His eyes. Behind the dewy tears, she could see them changing. That cold vacant stare slowly pushing out the blue.  
  
"Spike?" Buffy asked, as he doubled forward, his hand slapping against the wound in his gut. She looked down and saw the blood seeping through his fingers, dripping in silent pools to the floor. "Spike.." she gasped.  
  
His head whipped up and he stared at her face, studying it, taking a  
  
snapshot to carry around in his mind. To add to the millions of others that were already there. "Buffy, I.."  
  
"Spike, are you alright?"  
  
"Buffy?" he looked at her, confusion passing over his face. His brow  
  
furrowed as he toppled back. Buffy caught him before he hit the floor,  
  
pulling his head into her lap. "Buffy, Love," he whispered, looking up at her, his confusion now terror.  
  
"Come on, Spike. The doctor will be here soon," Buffy whispered, her own tears falling. Soon was not soon enough. She knew it. She felt it rip through her heart like a sword. Buffy pressed her hands against the wound trying to physically hold it together. Make it stop bleeding. Make it stop killing him. "Spike, hang on. It'll be OK. We'll set things right. Always do." He just stared at her quizzically, faintly remembering saying that to her. "Tara! Willow!" Buffy screamed, as his eyes became more vacant. There was less and less of him in that gaze.  
  
"Am I dying?" Spike asked, almost like a child. Buffy choked, her tears catching in her throat.  
  
"I won't let you," she answered, tears slipping down.  
  
"Can't cheat death, Love," he whispered. "You know that."  
  
"Then don't go," she replied, hearing feet stampeding up the stairs. "Stay with me. Stay with Emma. We need you. I need you, Spike."  
  
He smiled at her. "Not half as much as I have needed you," he answered.  
  
Willow and Tara appeared in the doorway. Buffy turned her head, her body shaking, glancing over at the girls. When she turned her head back, Spike's eyes had closed. His gentle face was slack. Like a little boy. Asleep.  
  
To be contd. 


	19. Ether

Title: Ether (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 19)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: Spike moves on. Buffy tries to anchor him to this existence. An unlikely hero tries to rescue them, but will it be in time?  
  
Ether  
  
The room was unnaturally silent. Buffy's tears streamed down her face, but her breathing had all but stopped, almost as if she was caught in time. Waiting. Willow and Tara were like statues standing in the doorway. What was there left to say? Suddenly Spike looked neither big nor bad. Neither Vampire nor Man. Something else. Something deeper, wilder than all of them and more infinite than time.  
  
"Is... is he?" Tara stuttered.  
  
"I.. I don't know," Buffy answered, her eyes wide as if she were unsure of what to do next. Where to go. Willow slowly walked to Buffy and Spike, lowering next to them and laying a hand on Buffy's folded knee. The simple gesture shattered the Slayer. Buffy felt as if she had been molded of ice and then smashed with a sledgehammer until the splinters of her existence were carried off in the breeze. As if she were no longer there and her essence was above them, tangled in his, dancing in the ether that was neither here nor there.  
  
Buffy barely noticed Willow pulling Spike's shirt up, exposing the re opened gash, peeling the sodden bandages from his skin, mopping him with her own sweater. She never heard her frantically ordering Tara to run and find a way to get the doctor there, sunlight or no. Telling Buffy that he was still there. That he had not moved on yet.  
  
But Buffy already knew. She was with him, his fingers light as air entwined in hers. Their bodies moving slowly to unheard music in an unseen place.  
  
The last dance.  
  
Even in the vast expanse of nowhere she tethered him. Bound him to her. He looked at her teary, frightened eyes, and she could see him saying goodbye. Still she pulled him tighter against her and willed the music to go on.  
  
"Buffy, you know I have to go," he whispered, brushing the hair from her  
  
face, pushing loose strands behind her ear.  
  
"You have to stay. I can't do this without you."  
  
Spike smiled at her softly, his palm resting on her cheek. "You could  
  
always do this. Before me. After me. With me. I didn't stay because I had to, Pet."  
  
"But I need you," she whispered, trying to focus on his eyes. His endless eyes.  
  
"I'll be nearby. One day, Love. We'll find peace together." He leaned  
  
down and kissed her lips so softly that it felt as if the air itself had  
  
kissed her. The tears streamed down her face and he wiped them away one by one with his thumb.  
  
"At least stay until the dance is over," Buffy asked, burying her head in his shoulder. Spike wrapped one arm around her waist, stroking her hair with the other.  
  
"Alright, Pet. Anything for you."  
  
*****  
  
The front door kicked open and Willow jumped from her spot hovering over the failing Vampire. Angel burst through covered in a blanket. Despite herself, she almost chuckled, remembering the countless times Spike had forced his way in a smoldering bundle. Spike. Willow lowered her head again, back to pressing on the wound, trying to make the blood stop. Buffy never moved. Never flinched. Just sat with his head in her lap, her hands on his cheeks, with big, heavy tears dropping from her open eyes.  
  
"Willow?" Angel asked, tossing the blanket on the stairs and stepping into the dining room. "Willow, is he... dead?"  
  
"Not quite," Willow answered, looking up at Spike's grandsire, her own eyes dewy and exhausted. "It won't be long now," she continued, sadly.  
  
"What's wrong with Buffy?"  
  
Willow glanced over at the Slayer. " I think she is saying her good-byes."  
  
Angel looked at her strangely. "Saying?"  
  
"They're both still here. She'll come back when he moves on. I think, at least," Willow stuttered. Angel stared at the pair for a moment and felt something move deep inside of him. He, Angel, was meant for the Slayer. That's what he had been told. But in that one moment, he understood that they had been horribly wrong. He could never love her as completely as Spike had loved her. Buffy would never love him as she loved Spike. It was *that* love. That brutal, beautiful, angry, passionate, trusting, grown up love that would save them all.  
  
"Where's Emma?" Angel asked. There was no choice anymore. Spike could not die. Not that Angel had not thought about it thousands of times over the century plus since Spike's creation. But Buffy, Emma, all of them needed him.  
  
"Hunh?" Willow asked, a little shocked by the question.  
  
"Emma?"  
  
"Angel, Emma shouldn't... she shouldn't see this. She's only a baby."  
  
"She's older than us all, Willow. Just tell me where she is."  
  
"You aren't going to... hurt her, are you?" Willow asked, a little  
  
frightened. Angel looked at her in utter shock.  
  
"No! Angel... not Angelus. I have... I had... a child of my own."  
  
Willow looked at him, compassion crossing her face. "Anya has her. They're in the basement."  
  
*****  
  
Buffy could feel Spike slow until they were no longer dancing. Until they were only wrapped in each other's warmth. There was no more music. Just the silent haze and soft light. She clung to him as Emma had clung to her. Desperate. Full of want and need and fear. Afraid to let go or he might just disappear.  
  
"Love," he whispered into her hair. "I'm dying."  
  
"I know," she answered softly.  
  
"Running out of time, Pet. Otherwise you could fill your dance card with only my name."  
  
"Isn't there any way we could stay here? Rest?" Buffy asked, still tangled in him.  
  
"They need you. Emma needs you."  
  
"You're her champion," Buffy said, looking up at him like a child.  
  
"That's the tough thing, Pet. Champions always fall."  
  
"But there are still battles left," she pleaded.  
  
"Nothing you can't handle, Love."  
  
Buffy was silent, thinking, hoping she was wrong. "Do you want to go?" she finally asked.  
  
Spike pushed her away enough to see her face, his arms still locked firmly around her tiny body. "No." he answered, falling one last time into the emerald pools in which he had been drowning since he first laid eyes on her in that school. "If it were up to me, Pet, we'd never be apart."  
  
"So stay," she begged, knowing it was not his choice to make.  
  
He smiled sadly at her. "I love you, Buffy."  
  
"I know. I love you too." Spike fell silent, his face slacking. "Is  
  
this... is it time?" she asked, still clinging to him like a life raft on a raging sea.  
  
"Think so, Pet."  
  
*****  
  
Angel pounded up the staircase, carrying the restless baby cradled against his chest. Anya had protested, citing every excuse Buffy might have made, but, in the end, didn't fight as Angel loosed the girl from her arms.  
  
Somehow, it rang true to Anya. What Angel had said. The words were like a rhyme stuck in her head. The tune she could not remember, but the words she knew were true. Emma could save those who saved her. She watched Angel dart up the stairs, steadying Xander's protests with a hand on the boy's shoulder.  
  
"This is bigger than us," Anya whispered to Xander. "It's hard to remember sometimes in a dimension as narrow as this, but there *are* things bigger than us."  
  
Xander was silent, stroking Dawn's hair. The teen shifted, tired eyes  
  
fluttering open. "I want to go upstairs," Dawn whispered.  
  
Xander looked down at her. "Dawn, I don't think Buffy would want that."  
  
"*I* want that," the girl said, sitting up on her own.  
  
"I'm not sure you'll like what you see," Anya told the girl.  
  
"But...what Angel said..." Dawn stuttered.  
  
"Dawn," Xander sighed, "we don't know if he knows anything at all."  
  
"And it will only work if Spike's still alive," Anya added,  
  
matter-of-factly. Xander shot her the lack of compassion warning glare.  
  
"Well, it's true," Anya defended.  
  
Dawn was silent. Spike. He'd managed to be everything to her at one point or another. Her first real crush. Then her friend. Her confidant. Her brother and her father, and always her protector. "Then I need to say goodbye," she whispered, teary eyed. "I have that right, don't I?" Those big innocent eyes melted into water.  
  
Xander stared at her softly. "Yeah, Dawn. I guess you do."  
  
*****  
  
"Angel," Willow gasped, her eyes soft and watery, her hands pressed hard  
  
against Spike's wound. "What are you doing? She shouldn't be here."  
  
"Willow, if Emma's really the Peacemaker, she can help Spike," Angel said, kneeling down opposite her.  
  
"Help? How? Have you gone all loony? She's a little baby."  
  
"Because the Peacemaker is... well, it's like Dawn being the Key. Dawn's a kid, but she's been in the universe for ages. You ask her to explain how dimensions open or how she can do it and she can't tell you, because it is not a memory. It's what she is. Emma is the same way. She's a little baby, but she's older than time. She doesn't know she can do it. She just can."  
  
Willow looked at Angel skeptically, her wrists sore, her hands white and  
  
bloodied from holding on to Spike. Trying to keep him alive. "Angel, how do you know this?"  
  
"Look at it like this, then. Do you actually think that he's going to make it until the doctor gets here?"  
  
Willow looked down on Spike's blanched and sunken face. Felt the warmth  
  
slipping through her fingers. "No," she answered meekly, her own tears  
  
sliding down. Not so long ago, she would have never even imagined shedding a tear over Spike. But he had saved her that night in the schoolyard. Then he had done for her what no one else would do. He forgave her.  
  
"Your debt to me is cleared." She heard his voice in her mind.  
  
Spike had been... truer ... to them all. But especially to her.  
  
"So, will it hurt to try?" Angel asked, still holding Emma against him,  
  
stroking her back, fighting his own longing and hurt from remembering  
  
holding Connor.  
  
"No," Willow answered, moving her hands. They heard the basement door open and footsteps patter into the dining room. Dawn walked over to their huddled forms. Numb. Like her sister, the tears streamed softly down her pale cheeks, but she said nothing. Slowly, Dawn sank to her knees at Spike's hip, pulling his hand into her lap, tracing his fingers with her own. Trying to anchor him in this realm as Buffy was tethering him in ether.  
  
*****  
  
Spike felt his body jerk and he tugged against Buffy, even as he tried to move away. Like his feet were being sewn with silken thread to the fog that surrounded him. He opened and closed his hands behind Buffy, feeling the pull, the sudden change in density.  
  
"What is it?" Buffy asked, her head falling back so that she could see his face. She was afraid to move her arms from around him. Like a child afraid of letting go of the string of a balloon. Afraid he might float away.  
  
"Don't know, Pet," Spike whispered, pressing his chin to her forehead.  
  
"Feels like something grabbed hold."  
  
"Then don't let go," Buffy muttered, still clinging to his waist.  
  
*****  
  
Angel gently loosed the tot from her death grip on his shirt, turning her towards Spike and sitting her on his bent knee. The wound was raw and wide, like a chasm in a granite sea. Nothing a baby should ever see. Nothing anyone should, for that matter. Xander cringed as Angel eased the child forward, holding her with one arm around her middle, the other guiding the girl towards the horror that was killing her father. Willow cringed, but Dawn was silent, watching. Waiting. Buffy was still, threading between the worlds, weaving a silken rope between she and her love. Praying that it would bind them in one world or the next, or even the spaces in between.  
  
Two chubby palms pressed against pale skin, igniting the pooling blood into a silvery stream. Spike's body shuddered, then seized, shaking  
  
unconsciously as the baby crawled closer. Angel's arm stayed protectively around the baby's middle as she crawled. The silvery blood glowed with an iridescent shimmer, then drifted slowly away like dust in the wind. The baby stopped, stretching herself on her father's stomach as she had so many times before, and her forehead rested with a thud just below the wound.  
  
Willow gasped. Dawn froze, clinging to Spike's hand as much for her own  
  
comfort as his. Xander and Anya watched with fear and wonder. Angel still clung to the baby although she seemed herself to become ether in his grip.  
  
Emma began to shimmer like moonstone glimmering in the sun, her form becoming liquid, her beauty becoming ethereal, immortal. She seemed to  
  
change as seamlessly as rain to steam on heated pavement, her small body  
  
melting into mist until all that was left in front of the frightened  
  
onlookers was a glimmering tiny tracing. A beautiful silvery shadow, curled against his skin.  
  
The blood became mercury and the mercury, a silvery film in the air. The ragged edges of the torn flesh began to close slowly, as if being knit together stitch by painstaking stitch with silken spider web. No one moved. No one dared to speak. What was in front of them was more than they could fathom. Her moonstone body and mercury movement melting, reshaping, shimmering into the air. The scent of vanilla filled the room, intoxicating them all. Comforting them. Giving them peace.  
  
*****  
  
A sound like the click of heels on marble startled Spike. He craned his  
  
head, turning away from Buffy, his fingers still entwined in his love's.  
  
"Did you hear that?"  
  
"Yes," Buffy asked, her brow furrowed.  
  
A chair appeared in the fog in front of them. Then the scent of vanilla  
  
filled the air. Spike sniffed, filling his nose with the sweet smell.  
  
"She's here."  
  
"Who is?" Buffy asked, clinging to Spike's hand, but exploring the space with her eyes in childlike wonder.  
  
"I am," a smooth, rich voice with just a hint of an accent said softly into the ether. The young woman sat down gently in the chair. No older than eighteen, but with timeless beauty and wordless wisdom.  
  
"Emma?" Spike asked, his voice quiet.  
  
The girl smiled serenely back. "Mum," she said nodding at Buffy. "Daddy."  
  
  
  
To be contd. 


	20. The One

Title: The One (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 20)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: While the SG tries to save Spike, Buffy and her love are caught in the ether with the Peacemaker where they are told a story that changes everything.  
  
The One  
  
Emma sat down primly in the chair, her body glimmering in the ethereal  
  
light. She moved as if she were made of the air itself; fluid and flowing and gentle and whole. She appeared to them as she had in hell. Young and ancient, delicate and stronger than the Earth itself.  
  
"Emma?" Buffy muttered. The girl smiled in response.  
  
'Sit down. I've a story to tell you," Emma said in her enchanting, warm  
  
voice.  
  
Spike and Buffy exchanged a glance. Wasn't it only a week or two ago that they had told her stories, changed her diapers, tucked her in? "Sit," Emma repeated, smiling broadly.  
  
Spike dropped to the floor, crossing his ankles like a child in  
  
kindergarten. Buffy eased down next to him, her hip flush to his. Spike pulled her hand back into his lap, felling his fingers ebb and flow through hers.  
  
"In the beginning," Emma said, "there was but One..."  
  
*****  
  
"Angel?" Dawn said softly, "Is it working?"  
  
The wound was closing slowly, but neither Buffy nor Spike had moved since Emma first touched him. "I... I don't know," Angel answered, confusion in his voice.  
  
"His cut is closing. That has to be good," Willow, ever the optimist  
  
recently, pointed out.  
  
"But he's not...they're not... moving," Dawn stuttered.  
  
"Maybe it just takes time, Dawnie," Willow commented, patting Dawn's knee.  
  
"Is Emma OK like that?" the teenager asked, staring at the shimmering  
  
shadow still stretched along Spike.  
  
"I think," Anya began, "I think that's what she looks like. I mean really."  
  
Dawn turned her head to look at Anya. "She's all...glowy." She thought for a minute. Not so far away from me, she thought. "Guess it must run in the family."  
  
*****  
  
"One?" Buffy asked. "What beginning? Which beginning?"  
  
Emma smiled softly, reaching forward to put an impossibly soft finger over Buffy's lips. "Shh, this is not the kind of story of which you ask  
  
questions," Emma continued. The silvery young woman took a deep breath,  
  
sitting perfectly straight with her hands clasped atop her thighs. Spike was silent, watching.  
  
"In the beginning, there was but One," Emma repeated. "One seed which  
  
carried infinite power. The hopes and fears of all the world. Neither good nor evil, dark nor light. One." She held a shimmering finger in the air.  
  
Spike and Buffy were enraptured by the pattern of her speech, her smell,  
  
even the humble beginnings of her story. They stared at her like awed  
  
school children. "The Powers that Be decided that no one being should carry the burden of such power alone. In the womb of the mother, the seed was split in two, but the fission was merely physical. In all other respects, the two were still but One. One heart, One mind, One essence, One soul.  
  
The mother gave birth to twins, one male, one female. Alike in every sense of the word. Their thoughts were shared. Their emotions. Still but one soul animating them both. The pair existed symbiotically, almost as if one was the right hand, the other the left. In these strange times, demons and humans coexisted, albeit not always peacefully, but in understanding. The seed of the mother was neither demon nor human. Neither inherently good nor evil.  
  
Draconius was the leader of the Council at this time... "  
  
"The Council of Watchers?" Buffy asked, her brow furrowed.  
  
"The predecessor of it, yes. At this time, there was really nothing to  
  
watch. The Council oversaw and guided the peaceful coexistence of the  
  
races and dimensions. Draconius felt the power of the pair born of neither one world nor another. He felt their connected essences. Their shared soul more powerful split in two than any other one in existence. The Council was a harmonious group, however, Draconius had an agenda. He made a blood pact with a particularly virulent demon cult. In return for eternal life and endless spoils, Draconius promised the division of the dimensions. You see, the demons knew that they were much more powerful than the humans, and without intervention from the Council, they could easily defeat the humans and lay claim to this plane of existence."  
  
Spike stared at Emma intensely, listening to the one story he had not heard. Giles had alluded to the beginnings of this journey, but Emma seemed to know. As if she had been there. Buffy tried to pull it all together in her mind. Tried to understand why it was being told. Why now?  
  
"Draconius saw the perfect opportunity with which to launch his plan in the two born of One. He cast a spell over the boy, utilizing all of the  
  
borrowed black magic he could store. The spell did not remove the boy's  
  
essence or disconnect it from the rest, but rather quelled it. Replacing it, overlaying it, with a demon soul. In effect, creating a hybrid. An inherently evil human. The monster dominating the man. The boy went nearly mad fighting the evil off, trying to rid himself of the demon and return himself to the rest, but eventually, he succumbed and began to infect others with the darkness."  
  
"Vampires," Buffy muttered, looking up at Emma sheepishly for talking out of turn. Again.  
  
"Exactly," Emma responded, her perfect, smooth voice lulling Buffy back to silence. "The remaining members of the Council caught wind of Draconius's plan a bit too late. The evil was becoming too widespread and too strong. In the end, they had only one option. To imbue the remaining half of the One, the chosen One, with all of the strength and power of good. Enough that the one half alone could conquer all of the evil."  
  
"Slayer," Spike said, quietly.  
  
"Yes," Emma answered. "They filled her with strength and courage and  
  
virtuosity using all of the white magic that they could amass. Once  
  
prepared, they sent her on a mission to destroy all evil and restore the  
  
balance to this dimension. And she did, quite well. But a day came to pass when all that was left of her mission was she and her twin. A great battle ensued. One that changed the very fabric of time. However, when the moment came for the final blow, she could not finish her task. They had become polar opposites by design, but they were still One by destiny. No amount of magic could change the fact that they were but One. One shared essence. One shared soul."  
  
"So she set him free?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Yes," Emma answered. "And that is where good and evil diverged. Both  
  
eventually were lost to the ether in body, but their essence, their soul, if you like, was passed down from generation to generation. Not along bloodlines, but along lines of strength. Lines of heart. Each generation saw more of a divergence, a shift in the essence. If the body is a chalice and the soul is that which fills the chalice, the Slayer's chalice became more full with goodness and nobility and light. The Vampire's chalice of soul became increasingly empty until only a drop remained.  
  
The Council, now the Council of Watchers, had to maintain the balance and chose to align with the Slayer. However, a wise prophet in the beginning had foretold, that one day, the chalices would be even again. That the One that had been split would be whole again and the scales would tip even. The Council knew that this indicated that at some time, a Slayer would have to become more gray. The rogue element was the lightening of a Vampire. Once the scales were even, Peace would be restored between the worlds. Which, of course, brings me to you."  
  
"To us?" Buffy asked.  
  
"You," Emma began, looking at her mother. "You were chosen by the Powers long before your parents parents had been even a glimmer. You were the vessel, the chalice that could contain the essence of the One. In you, however, was also a rebuttal of your gift. Unlike any before you, other than the first, you altered your mission. Changed your being and shared your essence. First with your friends and then later.."  
  
"Spike?" Buffy said softly.  
  
"Right. But you are jumping ahead. Your headstrong ways and refusal to  
  
comply with your parameters as Slayer gave the Council fair warning.  
  
Warning that you may be the one to unite the halves. However, your chalice was still full and you possessed almost the entire remaining essence. Also, the remaining tiny piece, the drop that was missing and belonged to the boy, was still lost. The Council had thought it had been found again in Angel, when really his purpose lies elsewhere."  
  
"Where?" Buffy asked. Spike looked at Emma and then at Buffy, gauging what they knew and what they wanted to, respectively.  
  
"That is another tale," Emma corrected. "As our time is short, we must stay on course. No one had really noticed Father. Even the Powers had not thought to look there."  
  
"Story of my sodding existence," Spike huffed. Buffy stifled a chuckle.  
  
Emma smirked, making her father smile. She had been watching.  
  
"Until Glory," Emma continued, coming back to topic. "Glory had been part of Draconius's plan, so when the Council heard of her resurgence in this dimension, they watched the situation closely. When Father went against the hell god with nothing to gain, no love, no victory, he acted selflessly. This is against the very nature of the Vampire. He acted with heart. With concern for other than the demon. His essence had shifted by his own power and the chalice began to fill. It became evident that the Vampire with a heart was the other half of the One.  
  
However, to truly begin to restore balance, some had to have been drained from you, Mum. When you died that night on the tower, your soul was released into ether. Here to be exact. When you left this plane, that essence was restored to the other half. The scales tipped.  
  
Willow brought you back against the natural order of things, so your essence was not restored with you. Actually, father had all of it. In his love for you, his ache for you while you were here, in ether, he returned your share to you, keeping only part for himself."  
  
"So, that is why everything was so different?" Buffy asked. Spike squeezed her hand, stroking her fingers, feeling almost guilty that he had to be the one that had taken part of her light.  
  
"Yes," Emma answered. "Although the transition was difficult, it brought balance. Began to restore the One. The convergence of good and evil began anew."  
  
"Began?" Spike questioned, shifting, moving infinitesimally closer to  
  
Buffy.  
  
"For the union to be complete, the cycle has to be undone. The good must empty. The evil must fill. The halves must join in union of heart, of soul, of word, of deed and of blood. The two seeds must join into one."  
  
"You," Spike said, staring at the shimmering girl in front of him.  
  
"Correct. And therein Peace will be born anew. The convergence has just begun. The hearts have been joined. The words have been said. The deeds proven. For the union to be complete, the Slayer, the good, must truly accept the Vampire, the evil, for what it is. In that, he will be set free and the essences will return to balance."  
  
"But I have..." Buffy stuttered. " I know Spike is a Vampire. It doesn't matter...anymore."  
  
"You admit that you love the man, but not the beast," Emma said, simply.  
  
"Be fair to your Mum," Spike said, scolding his daughter not as if she was a Chosen One older than time, but rather as an errant eighteen-year-old talking back.  
  
Emma smiled, turning her attention to Spike. "She must be willing to love the beast. To trust the beast. To let it reclaim what is rightfully his. In that gesture, there will be no more human, no more monster. Only the One."  
  
"I can't.. I won't... claim her," Spike stuttered, looking at Emma wide  
  
eyed. "Not like that."  
  
"The choice," Emma said softly, "is hers to make." Buffy looked at them as if they were speaking in a language that she did not understand. "If she does not, there is no punishment. There is no crime. But the essence will remain unbalanced and the union of the One incomplete."  
  
"Please tell me what you are talking about," Buffy asked, frustrated, her eyes flitting nervously between them. Spike looked at her pretty eyes, studying her. He had hidden the monster from her for so long, knowing that she deserved better. That part of him was the one part that her very nature prevented her from understanding.  
  
"Pet," he whispered to Buffy, stroking her hand again. "What she is saying is that for the balance between good and evil to be restored, you must accept both the good and the evil. That I need to embrace the lightness of you. And you have to embrace my darkness."  
  
"I understand that," Buffy retorted, " although I'm not sure what essence really means."  
  
"It is something without description. But, in your world, it is easiest  
  
called a soul," Emma answered.  
  
"So, Spike.. and I...."  
  
"Share an essence." Emma completed. "Are the halves of the One."  
  
"But I still have part of his half?"  
  
"Yes," Emma answered.  
  
"So, how do I give it back?"  
  
Spike sighed, touching Buffy's face. She turned her head toward him.  
  
"Accept the monster. Let the beast reclaim its share. But it doesn't  
  
matter..."  
  
"How?" Buffy asked, turning back towards Emma.  
  
"He must drink from you. And you must give willingly," Emma answered.  
  
"Blood for blood."  
  
Buffy was silent. Spike's heart dropped. This was the one thing he never wanted to happen. He had become a man, or at least as much a man as he could hope to be, for her. She couldn't understand the monster. She only knew that to bite was to kill or to save. Spike knew that she could not love that. It was not in her nature.  
  
"Spike," Buffy said softly, forcing him to look at her. "It's alright. I trust you." Her hands flitted to his face, landing on his cheeks as gently as butterfly wings.  
  
"No, Buffy," Spike answered. "I have more of you than I deserve."  
  
"It is not just you that the union effects," Emma said, looking at her  
  
parents. "It is the beginning of the convergence of good and evil. The  
  
consolidation of dimensions. My journey."  
  
"You won't... nothing will happen to... if I don't... not to you..." Spike sputtered, staring at the beautiful girl in front of him.  
  
"No," Emma said, serenely smiling. "I will still be your daughter. I am what I am. If the One is joined again, my journey is that much more  
  
defined. My strength is that much greater as I am inextricably connected to you both. The One was the only force ever more powerful than the gods. To have that restored makes us all more likely to succeed in our quest, not to mention that it will give back what was once lost. Still, it is not my choice to make."  
  
Spike looked lost in thought, his eyes now only on his hands. They moved over, through, around Buffy's as he thought. Buffy's heart almost broke watching him torture himself. It was her choice, her love, but he would prevent her from making it to ensure she did not get hurt. So, he was trying to make it his.  
  
"What happens from here?" Buffy asked, trying to move on from this. To let it sink in.  
  
"The cycle begins anew. There is an element rising in the Council that  
  
wishes to destroy me and wishes to divide the union of One if it comes to pass. That is who helped Gwydion and that is who will send the rest," Emma replied.  
  
"The rest?" Buffy asked.  
  
" There will be many more threats, most of which will trace back to him.  
  
He will hide behind the glamour of rank and rarely do his own bidding, but Draconius has returned and will not stop until we are all destroyed. The three of us. Or until we can defeat him. But it will take all three."  
  
"But..." Buffy said, suddenly forgetting the tale and remembering how it  
  
came to pass that they were here, together, to begin with. "Spike is.. he was.... Emma, he's..."  
  
"Dying," Emma said, a sad look on her face. The moonstone girl reached out, taking one of her father's hands; the other still entwined in Buffy's. Spike looked at them both. They were so much alike, his girls. That pretty blonde hair. The slight build. The presence that filled a room with everything that was good about living. The last thing he wanted to do was leave them. Ever.  
  
"Those who suffer in my name are saved in my name. If you wish to return, Father, you are free." Emma said, her eyes tearing.  
  
"What?" Spike answered, his brow furrowing.  
  
"I would like to know my father. Not stories of what he should have been, but I would like to know him for what he is. He of the heart," she said smiling. "The path is clear if you would like to come along."  
  
"I'm not..dead? "  
  
"No," Emma answered. "If you chose to follow us, you will be restored. If you chose to rest, the gates of Heaven will let you pass. Mum?" the girl said, taking Buffy's hand in hers. Slowly, she let her fingers slip from her father's hand. Buffy stood with Emma, looking down at Spike, her eyes trapped in his. She could feel their grip loosen, then his fingers gently pull from hers as if some unseen force had moved them apart.  
  
"I love you," Buffy whispered, but the fog moved between them and he  
  
disappeared from view.  
  
  
  
To be contd. 


	21. Blue

Title: Blue (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 21)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: Buffy returns from the ether, leaving Spike with a choice to make. A friendly face returns to help Buffy understand.  
  
Blue  
  
Buffy awoke, curled in her bed, wrapped around Spike, as she had been every day since Emma was born. Her arm was draped over his naked chest, her leg thrown over his thighs. Somehow, he had been dressed in a pair of deep royal blue silk pajama pants. Buffy looked at him oddly for a second, wondering where they had come from and who had cleaned him up and redressed him. She scanned herself, now wearing the blue top that matched his pants and her underwear. Ok, she thought, her brow furrowing. The idea of someone, hopefully two different someones, seeing them in various states of undress was a little creepy. Suppose it was nothing to worry about, she thought.  
  
Besides, she kind of liked how the blue pajamas looked. How they draped  
  
over him and clung in all the most glorious spots.  
  
Buffy shook her head, deciding shallow might be better left until later.  
  
She pressed her nose to his cheek and felt his warmth. Spike groaned,  
  
rolling over and trapping her under one strong arm and pressing himself  
  
against her legs. Shallow was returning with a bang.  
  
Still, her relief at the feel of his warmth, the slow, steady rhythm of his heart, *knowing* he was just sleeping the sleep of the dead but not actually *dead*, made her whole body sigh with gratitude. Buffy craned her head from under his wrestling grip and scanned his chest. A thin, silver line threaded delicately where the wound had been, but no other trace of the battles were visible. She sank back into the pillows, scooting herself in tighter and feeling his body shift to accommodate her.  
  
A soft rap came at the door. Buffy sighed, exasperated, disentangling  
  
herself from the heaven their bed had become. "Hang on," she whispered as loudly as she could without being rude to the sleeping Vampire in her bed. She freed herself, grabbing a pair of shorts from her drawer and nearly tripping over herself while trying to put them on and walk at the same time.  
  
Buffy opened the door with an exaggerated air of annoyance. Just want to go back to bed and... In front of her stood Giles with Emma balanced on his hip.  
  
"Giles," Buffy squeaked, still trying to whisper. She threw her arms around both of them at once. He wrapped his free hand around her, patting her back softly.  
  
"Hello, Buffy. Sorry to interrupt but I thought.."  
  
"No, I'm glad you're here," she bubbled, relieved at the sight of the man she saw more as a father than as a Watcher.  
  
"Not to mention," Giles continued, "I thought you might want a visit." He lifted Emma and handed her softly to Buffy. Buffy enveloped the baby in her arms, cuddling her close and raining kisses on her soft head.  
  
"How long have I been out?" Buffy asked, stepping back into the room and moving over to the chairs against the wall, near the window. Giles followed hesitantly.  
  
"About ten hours."  
  
"Ten hours?" Buffy gasped. "My poor girl. You OK?" she asked Emma,  
  
raining more kisses on her face and arms.  
  
"I arrived just as ... as it was ending. As soon as you came back, she just returned to normal," Giles said, wiping his glasses. He scanned the room nervously. "Buffy, are you sure you wouldn't like to talk elsewhere?" he asked, nodding at the bed.  
  
Buffy thought for a moment. "I don't want to leave him," she answered  
  
quietly.  
  
Giles nodded. "Understandable."  
  
"So, what happened?" Buffy asked. Giles smiled at her.  
  
"Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing."  
  
"You first," Buffy quipped, returning the smile.  
  
Giles repeated the story that Willow had told him. About Spike collapsing into Buffy's lap and Buffy's spirit disappearing with him. Willow trying to help him. Angel coming with the news. Then Emma. The blood and the mercury and silver thread. Giles told her he arrived just as the shimmer was fading and Emma was returning to her human self, absolutely unchanged except for being exceedingly sleepy. Soon after, Buffy flickered to life long enough to look at Dawn and her daughter and then fainted back into the carpet.  
  
"Nice and super strong Slayer-y of me," Buffy joked, yawning.  
  
"It was a long journey. All three of you should be tired." Giles  
  
commented.  
  
"How did, well.. how...?" she asked, pulling at the pajamas.  
  
"Not long after I arrived, Tara came with a doctor. The doctor checked  
  
Spike and said he was asleep."  
  
Buffy had to chuckle. "Bet he charged an arm and a leg for that  
  
brainstorm."  
  
"Taken care of," Giles said quietly. "None the less, he carried Spike  
  
upstairs and I carried you."  
  
"Did you.." Buffy asked, sheepishly.  
  
"*Heavens* no," Giles answered, blushing. "Dawn came up and dressed you in Emma's room, then she moved you next to Spike herself."  
  
"Dawn?"  
  
"It's not as though you are very large," Giles quipped.  
  
"And I slept through all of this?"  
  
"As did Spike. As did Emma."  
  
Buffy was quiet, mulling it over. "You know Emma was there. With me and  
  
Spike."  
  
"I had figured as much," Giles answered, sinking back into his chair. " I am assuming that your souls, well *your* soul, was in ether."  
  
"Our soul," Buffy said oddly. "Well, almost."  
  
Giles leaned forward, clasping his hands over his knees. "Buffy, what did you learn?"  
  
Buffy recounted every detail that she could remember from the time that a nearly grown Emma appeared in the ether, to the story, to the little she said about the Council and the future. And of course about the One.  
  
The Watcher sat, looking pensively at his charge. "Emma," he whispered,  
  
gesturing at the half asleep baby on Buffy's lap, "knew all of this?"  
  
"Yes," Buffy replied. "Like she'd been there."  
  
"Buffy," Giles sighed tentatively, "The Peacemaker, if the prophesy is  
  
correct, is older than this dimension. Her human form, Emma, is mortal, but her... well... her essence... is part of the Powers themselves. A direct connection, so to speak."  
  
"So what she said ... it was true?" Buffy stuttered.  
  
Giles thought about how to answer. "It is more accurate than any prophesy. A prophesy is that which men write about powers to come. Her knowledge is the power of which they wrote. It is truer than the story."  
  
"So then I know, I need to... he won't...," Buffy riddled.  
  
"What is it that you are *not* telling me, Buffy?" Giles asked, reading her nervous gaze.  
  
Buffy fidgeted with Emma's loose socks, pulling them up, tugging them  
  
straight. The baby thrashed and thudded into a dead sleep against her  
  
chest. Sleeps like Spike, she thought.  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"What do you know about the One? Besides what I told you," she asked, her head cocking in interest.  
  
"Frightfully little," Giles replied. "Only that the two together were the single most powerful mortal force in creation. Had they not been separated and tampered with, they'd have likely been the driving force in unification."  
  
"So they were good?"  
  
"No way of knowing. But they were a gift of the Powers and demonic forces saw them as a threat rather than an ally, so I would say that, in your terms, yes."  
  
"In my terms?"  
  
"Buffy, you have a very simplistic view of good and evil. You've had to in order to stay alive. Only Spike has budged you even the slightest bit."  
  
"Which brings me back to the not telling part," she said, deciding not to take offense at Giles' comment. Mostly because he was right.  
  
"What is it, Buffy?"  
  
"The Peacemaker.... Emma... said that the convergence is just beginning.  
  
Spike has done everything. Embraced the light, I think she said. Anyway, he's done. But I..."  
  
"You what?" Giles asked, trying to coax it out of his charge.  
  
Buffy went back to her nervous adjustment of Emma's socks. "She said I  
  
needed to accept the beast to truly even the scales and return the One."  
  
"Accept the beast?"  
  
"Love not just the man, but the Vampire. I thought... I thought I did,  
  
Giles."  
  
"But you don't know?" Giles asked, watching her closely.  
  
"There's no doubt I love Spike, but I haven't... I never. He's never like that around us. Not unless he's fighting and even then it is *so* not happening anymore."  
  
Giles thought a moment. "How do you set it right, according to the  
  
Peacemaker?"  
  
"Let him claim me. Drink," Buffy whispered. "Love the demon."  
  
A chill tore through the Watcher. He had grown to trust Spike in his own  
  
way, and even to respect his opinions and his judgement. Entrusted the girl who meant the world to him, the *girls* who meant the world to him, into Spike's care. Still, the idea of encouraging this, even letting it happen, repulsed the Watcher. He thought about what Buffy had told him. Pulled the story together in his head. "Love the demon," Giles muttered, "and the demon will be gone."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Part of the scroll. The Slayer gives herself both to the man and to the beast with only love. With no fear. Then the beast and the man are one. The evil is undone."  
  
"Would he lose the strength of the Vampire? The senses?" The stamina?, she thought to herself.  
  
"In a way, yes," Giles answered, "But he would gain a power much greater. As would you. No longer would you be simply Vampire and Slayer. You would both gain the strength of the other. There would still be a difference in your personalities, but your souls.... Buffy, do you understand that by reuniting the halves, you must give him half of your very soul?"  
  
Buffy was silent, cradling Emma closer, listening to her tiny snores.  
  
"Haven't I already?" she asked, watching her daughter breathe.  
  
Giles looked at Buffy. "Think about this. It isn't about starry-eyed  
  
soulmates. This is about the yin and the yang. One whole with two distinct halves. If may sound very romantic, but it is very permanent and very real."  
  
"I'll think about it," Buffy agreed, still studying Emma. Giles knew that her reaction meant that her decision had been made.  
  
"I'd like to talk to Spike about what happened in the ether before you make any rash decisions."  
  
"Why?" Buffy asked, raising her eyes to her trusted Watcher.  
  
Giles chuckled. "You have never been known for your startling attention to detail."  
  
Buffy smiled back. " I should be offended," she said, yawning like a cat, "but I think I am too tired."  
  
"Well," Giles began, slapping his knees and standing, "I am going to my  
  
hotel and was feeling rather generous, so, if you don't mind, I'd like to take Dawn and Emma with me."  
  
Buffy looked at the Watcher in shock. "Why? What's wrong?" Her entire  
  
body tensed, wondering what was coming for them this time.  
  
"Not everything is apocalyptic, Buffy," Giles answered, smiling. "You need to rest and so does Spike. Babies can be.. unpredictable."  
  
"What do you know?" Buffy joked affectionately.  
  
"Which is *exactly* the reason that I am taking your sister as well.  
  
Assuming that she has the requisite helping skills," Giles answered, very professionally.  
  
"Old pro," Buffy commented. "But I really don't know if I want to be away from her now."  
  
"You will be *much* more use to her after a good," he looked at his watch, "day's rest. I'll bring her back tomorrow. I promise." Giles stretched his arms forward towards the little girl in Buffy's lap.  
  
Buffy turned Emma, beginning to hand her to Giles when she caught sight of it and gasped. Giles lurched forward, steadying Buffy's hands. "What is it?" he asked in a worried rush of words.  
  
"Her... her neck," Buffy stuttered. Giles slowly eased the baby from her shaking grip and Buffy stood, pulling down the neckline of Emma's pink pajamas. On the nape of the child's neck was a tiny star, burned into her flesh. Giles inspected it carefully, as Buffy's face contorted into a sad grimace. "What..what happened to her?"  
  
"It's the mark."  
  
"The mark Gwydion talked about?"  
  
"I am not sure, but it was expected," Giles answered, letting his fingers brush the star. The little girl did not flinch.  
  
"The Prophesy?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Buffy was on the verge of tears. Anger and compassion for her baby were  
  
fighting it out in her mind. "Will it.. does it.. hurt her?"  
  
"She doesn't seem to be in any physical pain, but I really don't know much more," Giles answered.  
  
"Will you... can you find out?" Buffy asked, nervously running her delicate fingers over the tiny mark.  
  
"I promise," he answered, tugging up the girl's pajamas and cuddling her  
  
close to his chest. Emma's head plunked onto his shoulder, obviously  
  
feeling utterly safe.  
  
"Alright," Buffy said, calming a bit. "Take care of her. Call me if..., " she pleaded, kissing Emma's cheeks.  
  
"We've got it all taken care of," Giles said, reassuringly, patting Buffy's forearm. "Please rest." He started for the door.  
  
"I'll try," Buffy answered, yawning and stretching like a cat. Giles smiled back at her, pulling the door closed.  
  
Buffy slid the shorts to the floor, climbing back into the bed next to  
  
Spike. He shifted again, groaning, his body drawn to hers like a magnet.  
  
"Buffy," he muttered in his sleep as she eased in next to him.  
  
"Go back to sleep," she whispered, her mind still on the star. Her arms  
  
wrapped around his neck and he rolled onto his side, face to face with her. Slowly, she felt the fear and anger melt away. Spike was still fast asleep, but knowing he was there just made it better. Made everything better.  
  
Always had.  
  
"Love," he said softly, eyes still closed tight. She moved closer, brushing her lips against his, pressing her body to his so that they touched at every point.  
  
"I'm right here."  
  
To be contd. 


	22. Snap

Title: Snap (The Peacemaker Prophesy, pt 22)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: Buffy tries to talk Spike into reclaiming the One. New and  
  
interesting perks are discovered.  
  
Snap  
  
When Buffy awoke again, she could not tell if it was night or day. The  
  
blinds were drawn and the room was dark save for a candle on the bedside  
  
table and the warm, red glow of the alarm clock. When had her life become normal, in a supernatural kind of way?  
  
He was stroking her face softly with the back of his hand. "Welcome back, Love," he whispered, his eyes caught in hers.  
  
"I should be saying that to you," she answered, smiling up at him.  
  
"Right as rain, Pet," Spike said softly, etching her face into his memory along with the thousands of other freeze frames he'd taken along the way.  
  
"Please don't almost die again," Buffy whispered, reaching up to feel his cheek under her palm. His soft skin. His chiseled cheekbones. "Don't go."  
  
"Not leaving. You know that," he responded. She smiled again. That pretty schoolgirl smile that melted him time and time again.  
  
"I know," she answered. His hands slipped to the back of her head, pulling her up to meet him. His lips pressed to hers softly, gently, like butterfly wings. He could feel all of the hurt and desperation left in her as she returned the kiss with more fire, pulling him against her, making them one.  
  
One.  
  
"Spike?" she said softly, pulling away. Her tone became serious. "You  
  
know... what Emma said..."  
  
He looked away, not willing, not able, to deal with this. "It can wait."  
  
"It can't," Buffy answered in her resolved-Slayer voice.  
  
"It can," Spike replied. "You need to rest. We can deal with the rest of the bloody universe tomorrow."  
  
Buffy was quiet, wanting to agree. Wanting to just fall back into his arms and nestled down in the warmth of the bed. Maybe make love for an hour or five. Maybe just touch until she absorbed him through her skin. Some little itch in the back of her mind prevented it. It wasn't about the world. It was about him. For years she had hated and taken. Time to make good.  
  
"Spike," she started, sitting up. "It's not about the universe. Not  
  
everything is apocalyptic," she continued, remembering what Giles had told her. Spike sat up next to her. She turned to face him, legs folded neatly under her. "What Emma said... it made me feel.. guilty."  
  
"Guilty? Why? Pet, you've nothing to feel guilty about," Spike answered, furrowing his brow.  
  
"Because she was right."  
  
Spike was silent, staring at her closely. "How so, Love?"  
  
"I never. I didn't. I thought I knew what it meant to love the Vampire in you. But I don't. It's part of you and it isn't right that I don't understand," she stuttered nervously.  
  
"It's not *in* you to understand, Buffy," Spike countered. "You're the  
  
Slayer."  
  
She raised her hands to his face. "And I love a Vampire," she said slowly. " And I have something that belongs to you. It's time I gave it back."  
  
"Buffy," Spike sighed, his eyes burning, wanting to cry. "I won't.  
  
I...we... have enough."  
  
"I don't care about the power," Buffy answered. " I need to know. I need.. I need to try."  
  
Spike was silent again. Finally, her looked at he. "Pet, I don't know if I could handle you... What if you don't love the monster?"  
  
Buffy's turn to be pensive. Her hands still caressed his cheeks. She could see the big, wet tears pool in his beautiful eyes. Never spilling, but there, waiting. "Spike," she breathed. " I can't imagine not loving any part of you."  
  
His head dropped. Fear and dread were sinking his heart. Not this. Not ever. The master had done it. Angel. That ponce Dracula. But between them, she wasn't the Slayer. He wasn't a Vampire. Between them, they just were.  
  
"Change for me, Spike," she whispered.  
  
"Buffy, no," he pleaded.  
  
"Change for me, please," Buffy pleaded, pressing her lips to his. He  
  
swallowed nervously then allowed his features to morph as her lips still  
  
touched his. She felt his fangs graze her mouth and pulled gently away.  
  
Spike was naked, desperate in front of her with the face of a monster and the heart of a man. Buffy studied him closely, tracing his mask with her eyes, then with her hands. Her fingers brushed the ridges in his brow, slid over the eyelids shadowing glimmering yellow eyes, let her palms rest upon stretched cheeks, her index finger tracing full red lips and sharp pointed fangs. Spike's heart sunk by the moment as she touched him, saw him, naked and alone in the one persona he could not escape.  
  
Softly, Buffy began to cry.  
  
"Buffy," Spike whispered, touching her small hand still pressed to his  
  
cheek. "Buffy, I can go back."  
  
"No," she answered, the tears still drizzling down her face. "I didn't get it... not until now."  
  
"What?" He asked, still in game face.  
  
"You look the same," Buffy answered. He stared at her quizzically. "You are what you are, Spike. I love that about you."  
  
"Buffy, I..."  
  
"Shh," she whispered, softly kissing him again. Her fingers dropped to the buttons of her top. Spike watched her unbutton each one delicately. He felt himself caught between excitement and dread. The blue silk slid to the bed behind her and she scooted towards him, shifting gracefully into his lap. Her legs wrapped loosely around his waist.  
  
"Buffy," Spike sighed, stroking her shoulders, letting his fingers trail  
  
down her bare arms. "I..."  
  
"Spike," she whispered, pulling her hair behind her. She tilted her head to the side, exposing a vast stretch of beautiful bronzed skin, her pulse jumping in her veins. The skin she offered was unmarked. The opposite side from Angel.  
  
"I can't," he said, the tears falling from golden eyes.  
  
"Spike," she whispered, breathlessly, scooting closer, her bare chest  
  
pressed to his. "I love you. Please." Buffy pleaded. " I need to  
  
understand."  
  
"How can you? How can you accept... this?"  
  
"Give me the chance."  
  
Spike leaned forward and Buffy felt the tears drip softly on her skin.  
  
Gently, like a cat cleaning its paws, he ran his tongue along her neck,  
  
lapping gently. His breath was warm and sweet, setting off every alarm in her body. Fear. Fight. Flight. Pleasure. "Please, Buffy," he whispered against her skin. "Please don't ask me to do this."  
  
"Spike, I need you to take what's yours. I can't live with myself if you don't."  
  
The monster was raging, desperate to feed, to take, to claim, but the man fought it. No. If he had to do this, he would not, could not, hurt her.  
  
"I trust you," Buffy said, raising her small hand as if in pledge. He  
  
raised his hand to hers, letting their palms press together, his fingers  
  
threading between hers. Spike stared once again into those beautiful green eyes. "Claim me," she said, her voice a throaty whisper. He leaned forward once again, hand still caught in hers. She could feel his hair brush her cheek, his fangs scrape her skin gently, almost imperceptibly.  
  
"Mine," Spike whispered.  
  
"Yours," Buffy responded, her eyes slowly closing.  
  
At first the pain was sharp, intense, as if a hole had been bored into her very core, releasing everything inside of her. Buffy gasped and could feel Spike shudder, the muscles of his back tensing to pull away. "No," Buffy whispered, her fingers trailing up his back, gracefully sliding over his skin. She cupped a palm behind his head, holding him against her as one would a child.  
  
The pain faded and she felt a fragile warmth crawl into her, simmering her blood, meandering through her veins like a slow moving stream. The pain was gone completely and all she sensed was the warmth. There was no savagery, no ripping skin, angry movements, reckless taking. Buffy felt her blood moving and felt him sipping her essence, but he suckled as gently as a baby to its mother. More gently. The warmth spread and she felt It pump into her heart, burning and exploding until she rocked back from the feeling. It felt as if her heart had been frozen in ice for so long and he tenderly thawed it, moment by moment, until the ice shattered into rain.  
  
Buffy felt Spike tense again at her movement, pulling back, but she held his head to her. "No," she whispered again. "Don't."  
  
His arms wrapped around her waist, one sliding up her spine, cradling her against him, steadying her. She felt his fingers press to the back of her neck, supporting her as the stars began to dance in her eyes. The demon raged inside of him, desperate to take her, drain her hard, agonizingly hard. But he fought it, taking only what he needed. Softly, slowly. Never hurt her. Never again.  
  
She felt it start like a million tiny feathers brushing her skin, caressing her until her body tingled and her heart ached with love. Buffy felt surrounded enveloped, hopelessly entwined, almost as she had in the ether. This time it was more intense. She opened her eyes and saw only silver. Glittering silver, shining all around, dancing over them, around them. His tears had stopped and she could feel him relax into a slow, steady rhythm, their hearts synchronizing, their minds and spirits melting into the silvery glow.  
  
Spike felt her relax, give in, melt into him. She mewled and whispered  
  
against his shoulder, assuring him she was all right. As her muscles  
  
slacked, he let go. Stopped fighting the demon. Just held her against him, hoping, feeling, it was the right thing to do. His eyes flickered up and he saw only the flesh of her neck below him and a sparkling silver glow. Spike closed his eyes again, tasting her blood flow into him. Her heart. Her soul. Her life and it dawned on him. He wasn't fighting it anymore, but the killer did not rise.  
  
"I love you, Spike," she whispered quietly, before falling silent for what seemed like eternity.  
  
Buffy gasped, her entire body shuddering, rocking back, pulling against him. Spike panicked, but found he could not move. Could not release her. She trembled and gasped and he felt a snap as his body absorbed her movement like the aftershock of an earthquake. He felt a tremble from the roots of his hair, shooting down his spine and branching into every limb, igniting every cell, making his heart cry out in love and agony. Then a sharp snap as if pieces of a jigsaw puzzle had found their proper place.  
  
Buffy floated above herself, wrapped in silver. She felt Spike there.  
  
Around her. Passing through her until they were face to face, body to body, life to life, hovering above themselves.  
  
"Mine," he whispered, pressing his palms to hers.  
  
"Yours," she answered, stepping forward and snapping into One.  
  
*****  
  
Buffy awoke slowly, letting the tingle of her skin, the scent of his warm body, the feeling of completion, swirl around inside of her. Taking her time coming to the surface. She felt a coolness on her lips, then the sensation of water drizzling down her throat. Buffy let her eyes drift open.  
  
Spike had her cradled against him on his lap, her head resting on his  
  
shoulder, feeding her water. Taking care of her. Always.  
  
"You alright, Love?" Spike asked as her eyes focused lazily on him. The concern. The sweetness. But something else. Buffy thought that nothing in this world could have made his eyes more endless and meaningful, but now she knew differently. Those beautiful, crystal blue eyes.  
  
Buffy smiled up at him. "I feel..."  
  
"Stronger," he answered.  
  
"Yeah," she said, grinning up at him sweetly. God, did she know what that innocent grin did to him? They had been together hundreds of times in countless ways and had a child together, but that grin turned her into a virginal schoolgirl and he into the helpless bloke trying to ask her on a date.  
  
"Close your eyes. I've something to show you," Spike said with a sly grin of his own. Buffy furrowed her brow as if deep in thought.  
  
"Nothing naughty. I know what you're thinking."  
  
"What?" Spike asked.  
  
"I know..." A lightbulb nearly appeared above her head. " I know what  
  
you're thinking!" she exclaimed.  
  
"What, you can read my sodding thoughts?" he stuttered.  
  
"No!" she giggled. " I can just sort of feel it."  
  
"Oh," Spike said, relaxing a bit. "Hate to burst your bubble, Pet, but it is pretty bloody obvious that I might be having naughty thoughts with my beautiful, mostly naked, ... you.. in my lap. Not much of a leap."  
  
"Right," Buffy commented, blushing, then deviously moving up his lap before stilling again.  
  
"Not fair, Love. And quit stealing my bloody thunder," he quipped.  
  
"Alright, alright," Buffy whined, still grinning.  
  
"Now close your eyes."  
  
Buffy complied, shutting her eyes. She felt him shift under her and then felt his fingers trailing lazily up and down her arms. She hummed, warming everywhere all at once. "I've seen this trick," she said, her eyes still closed. "Not that it's not one of my favourites."  
  
"Then open your eyes."  
  
Again, Buffy complied. She still felt the warm sensation of his hands  
  
running up and down her bare arms, but he was sitting on his hands like naughty child. "Wha...?" Buffy said, wide eyed, looking around her for  
  
whatever it was that was touching her and making her legs turn to jello.  
  
"Pretty handy," Spike said, slyly smiling at her.  
  
"How.....?" Buffy stuttered.  
  
"Think this One bit has a perk or two."  
  
"That's not fair!" she squeaked. But why not try it. She closed her eyes, seeing herself nuzzling his ear, licking it teasingly, giving it a little nip. He shifted uncomfortably beneath her.  
  
"Buffy," Spike gasped.  
  
"Handy," she repeated with an enormous grin painting her face.  
  
"Much more interesting than your little mind meld."  
  
"Oh *really?" Buffy responded, imagining something *very* naughty.  
  
"Buffy!" he gasped, pushing her off his lap into a giggling heap on the  
  
comforter. "Good God, woman! And I thought I was creative."  
  
" I wonder what the range on this is," she said, rolling onto her stomach and beginning to crawl back towards him on her elbows. " Like if you were downstairs and I was up here, do you think...?"  
  
"God forbid you have a naughty dream," Spike snarked, covering his own  
  
chuckle.  
  
"Ooooh! And I wonder if... well... if we were already doing one thing, but thinking of another..."  
  
"Double the fun, Pet?" Spike asked. "Hate to burst another bubble, but  
  
neither of our capacities for coherent thought are running on high at that point."  
  
"True," Buffy answered, back to the schoolgirl grin and creeping ever closer on those beautiful bare arms until she was stretched along him, elbows planted on either side of his chest. "Why did you say my beautiful...'you' before?" She asked.  
  
"What, Pet?"  
  
"When you thought I was reading your mind..."  
  
"No, *you* thought that."  
  
"Whatever," she waved off. "But you said 'my beautiful... 'you.' 'You' the best you can do nowadays?"  
  
Spike regarded her. Her pretty green eyes staring up at him with love and sweetness and a good dollop of desire. "Not always sure how to refer to you, Love."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, I never thought 'my baby's mutha' had much of a ring," Spike joked in his worst American ghetto accent. Buffy collapsed onto his stomach, laughing so hard that it began to hurt and feeling his body shaking with laughter under her. After several minutes of near hyperventilation, she wiped the tears from her eyes and managed to look at him again.  
  
"Thank God for that," she finally said, still giggling.  
  
"And," he said, smiling smugly at finally being able to make her lose  
  
herself in more that just one way. "I think that we are well beyond  
  
girlfriend."  
  
"Not to mention that it sounds very high school," Buffy commented.  
  
"You do understand that I am exercising endless restraint in not pouncing on that comment."  
  
"Understood," she answered, giggling again. Suppose I do whine about the glory days of high school once in a while, she thought.  
  
He looked at her again, taking her in, his tone changing subtly. "And I  
  
could call you ..."  
  
"Wife?" Buffy asked.  
  
"You know where I stand," he answered, turning the ring on her finger back and forth against her skin.  
  
"That works for me," Buffy said softly. Spike looked at her wide eyed,  
  
cocking his head, trying to wrap his mind around that one. "I think we  
  
might be beyond that too," she continued.  
  
Spike looked at her, knowing, feeling. " I could call you Everything.  
  
Because that would be the truth," he said softly.  
  
She slid up his body until they were face to face. "You are my Everything," Buffy whispered.  
  
"My Everything," he repeated, kissing her softly. "Always."  
  
"Every day."  
  
  
  
Final - Epilogue to follow 


	23. Epilogue

Title: Lost and Found (Peacemaker Prophesy, Epilogue)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing.  
  
Summary: It is six months after the first attempt on Emma's life. Buffy  
  
and Spike have reunited the One. Giles is still in town, but will he be for long? Dawn is taking on more responsibility with the help of Spike and Buffy.  
  
Special thanks: Here we are, at the end. I want to thank *everyone* on ff.net and on BAPS who has sent me *loads* of feedback on this story. I could not have done it without you. I never would know when to quit and when to continue were it not for all of you. So, thanks. I have not made any decisions on book four, but if you would like to see it, please let me know. If no one says anything, I will be happy with what I have written and grateful for what I have received from you all and from my muse. Thank you all again  
  
Also, I especially want to thank my wonderful and talented beta, Elizabeth, for being a great second set of eyes, and a fabulous friend.  
  
  
  
Lost and Found  
  
"Right then. Let's try it again," Spike said, assuming fighting stance. The Magic Box training room had become a second home in recent months. Between playing with the new powers that they had been given and training for what was to come, it seemed as if they were in that one room as much as they had been at home.  
  
"Was it bad?"  
  
"No, no, Pet. Try it again," Spike encouraged. She landed a quick right hook, followed by a pretty decent left jab and a round house planted straight and true into Spike's gut. He let it hit, although he probably could have blocked it and flipped her into the mat. "Ooof," he grunted,  
  
stumbling back a few steps quite dramatically.  
  
"I...I'm sorry. Was it better?" she stuttered.  
  
"You're coming along like a pro, Nibs," Spike answered, walking towards her, sizing her up. She had been learning fairly quickly. Form was solid and there was something to the whole Slayer blood theory as a teenaged girl usually didn't pack such a wallop.  
  
"But?" Dawn said, crossing her arms and cocking one leg to the side. Train with Spike to fight. Train with Buffy on attitude, he thought, watching her tap her foot impatiently.  
  
"But," he continued, letting the word drag out. Dawn fought off a giggle. "Something's missing, Pet."  
  
"Like what? Don't try to get me to wear leather. Very passÃ© this year."  
  
"What, now you're the sodding fashion police?" Spike huffed.  
  
"We did alright with you. Well, as best we could with what we had to work with," Dawn quipped. She and Buffy had taken it upon themselves to re-vamp Spike's wardrobe a bit. Today they got him to wear a royal blue button down with a white t-shirt underneath. The black jeans... he wasn't giving up that easy. Almost as hard to get him dressed as Emma. Dawn smiled. Buffy was right. The blue set off his eyes.  
  
"Can we get back to the battle?" Spike asked with an air of annoyance, teasingly pushing Dawn.  
  
"What?" Dawn asked, shaking her head to clear it and blushing a little.  
  
" I believe we were discussing a missing piece of your fighting style," Spike repeated.  
  
"Fine, fine, what?" the girl snapped, annoyed.  
  
"You just don't look... mean. Or even angry," Spike said, contorting his face and gesturing wildly, not sure how to explain it.  
  
"I'm not!" Dawn whined. "I'm training with you. I don't need to be angry."  
  
"Training to fight big bad evil," Spike responded, coming at her with hands raised and a grimace on his face.  
  
Dawn giggled madly. "*So* not you," she commented. "Bad puppy evil, maybe."  
  
"Sod off," he huffed in mock offense. Not being the baddest of all evil in town, or even in their house sometimes, was now a badge he wore with comfort. Still, the entire world did not need to point it out at every opportunity.  
  
"Not *mean*?" Dawn whined. "I can fight without being mean-y faced."  
  
"Not unless you intend on relying on your super abilities to whine a demon to death," Spike shot back. Dawn smirked. "Now *that*'s better."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because!" Spike uttered in frustration. "Watching you spinning around and kicking with all that flouncy soap opera hair and little girl face in a sodding flash of lip gloss... feel like I'm sparring with Holly Hobby."  
  
"Holly who?"  
  
"Sod off."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Argh, Buffy?!"  
  
"You always call Buffy when you get flustered."  
  
"Do *not*."  
  
"Do *too*."  
  
"Then stop looking at me like bloody Cindy Lou Who while you're attempting to kick me across the bloody room."  
  
Dawn smirked again, then flipped topics as if she had never started down this road. Another talent inherited from her sister. "Will you do the wall thing again?" she asked, smiling. Dawn lived for getting Spike riled up. Now she got why Buffy and Spike had so many stupid verbal sparring matches and then Dawn got to baby-sit while they patrolled for five hours at a time.  
  
"Dawn, it's just a thing..."  
  
"You couldn't do it before."  
  
"Fine," Spike responded, giving in. There was no victory when it came to any of the Summers girls. He had a feeling Emma would be no exception when old enough to finish wrapping him around her little finger. Not that she hadn't done it already, but he could avoid admitting it until she could speak and remind him of it.  
  
Spike looked at the far wall of the training room then took a hard run at it, darting straight up the wall, turning to catch the adjoining wall, then spin kicking down into the punching bag.  
  
"Yay!" Dawn squealed, jumping up and down in place and clapping. Despite his unaffected facade, Spike had thought it a pretty neat trick as well. Many new little interesting abilities had come out of the One. Every day there was something new, most of which he and Buffy had had much fun trying out.  
  
"We get back to work now, Niblet?" Spike asked, feigning frustration.  
  
"Fine. And I'll try not to be so Holly whoever."  
  
"Hobby," Spike corrected as she caught him off guard with a right hook.  
  
"Ooof."  
  
*****  
  
"As much as I would like to, Buffy, you know it's best I go back," Giles said, leaning over a stack of volumes at the long suffering wooden table of the Magic Box. "I never intended to stay this long."  
  
"Why did you, then?" Buffy asked, pulling a crawling Emma back into her lap.  
  
"Because I," Giles began, "I thought I should help." Buffy looked at him incredulously. "Alright, fine, Buffy. Because I like it here. I like being around you and Emma and the others and strike me down for saying this, but I have even enjoyed Spike's company."  
  
"What? The great Watcher admits to consorting with evil Vampires?" Buffy sighed dramatically, hiding a smile. Giles blushed, wiping his glasses.  
  
"I think we both know that he hasn't managed a good spot of evil for some time now. The Vampire bit is a little dodgy as well at this point," Giles defended. "Besides, he has proven quite useful at research. Did you know he could read in twenty seven languages?"  
  
"Why yes I did," Buffy answered. Because suddenly I can too, she thought. And English as a first language had been taxing enough. "That's exactly why I am with him," she joked. Tara had been dusting the books behind Giles and shot Buffy a glance that screamed "liar". Buffy blushed. "Well, it's part of it," she sighed. "You know I'm all about the research."  
  
"Oh, please, Buffy. The One has not changed anyone that drastically," Giles responded. Buffy smirked at him. "Still, I need to return to the Council. If what Emma said is correct, then one of us needs to be monitoring them."  
  
"Do you think it's the entire Council?" Willow asked, pulling up a chair next to Buffy.  
  
"Well, if history is indeed reconstructing, then no. Spike had told me that Emma mentioned Draconious being the only one involved in starting the divergence. The remaining members of the Council attempted to right his wrongs. She also said that Draconius was rising again. My guess is.."  
  
"Quentin," Buffy said, shivering. He'd always managed to give her the creeps.  
  
" I tend to agree," Giles commented.  
  
"Won't they... don't you think he might suspect something... you know, since you've been here with us for six months?" Tara asked, still straightening the book shelves.  
  
"He may be wary, but he'd have no reason to suspect that a baby managed to thoughtfully explain her own prophesy," Giles countered. "It does, however, explain why all of the information that he had given me on the translation of the Prophesy had led me to faulty conclusions. Only Jenny's portion seemed to be mostly correct."  
  
"Quentin was purposely hindering your translation," Willow added, adding up the pieces in her mind..  
  
"I would have never known had Spike not recognized the language and mapped out a translation matrix."  
  
Xander reached down to Buffy, gesturing for Emma and Buffy handed the wriggling bundle to him, straightening her sweater after Emma let go. "Little creepy that the guy reads ancient tribe-speak," Xander commented, sitting down next to Willow.  
  
"It's a One thing," Buffy commented.  
  
"She understands it as well," Giles said, tilting his head towards Buffy.  
  
Xander shuddered. "Spooky, much?" Emma was crawling up his shirt on a mission to tug his ears, so Buffy refrained on tossing some object from the table at him.  
  
"Still, I think I can convince Quentin that I, that you, know nothing more that what I had told you originally. We will have to play it close to the chest, though. It may seem that I have taken sides with him."  
  
"I think we all know where your loyalties lie, " Buffy responded, smiling softly and patting his arm. Giles smiled back at her, wishing he could just stay. For once, he felt as if he too had found a home.  
  
"When do you plan to leave?" Anya asked, stepping from behind the counter and towards the crew at the table.  
  
Giles sighed. "Don't fret, Anya. I won't keep you from sole control of the store too long."  
  
"No," Anya said, shyly smiling. "Actually, I think this time I might miss you."  
  
*****  
  
Lenora sat in the circle, surrounded by candles. A celtic cross laid out in front of her. Slowly, she flipped the cards one by one. Fingering the warn images as they played through her fingers. A door opened behind her. Her blindness never seemed to effect her ability to see.  
  
"You know the Lovers have become One. The Chariot has been unleashed," Lenora said in a cracked, dry whisper.  
  
"Yes, Mistress," he said, standing just outside the ring of candles.  
  
"The power is devastating. They have no idea the sword they wield. It is as if... as if a wall has been built around them."  
  
"Then tell me, Mistress. What shall I do to shatter the wall?" Quentin asked, standing still outside the circle.  
  
"Oh, the One will not be broken. Not this time," Lenora answered, still feeling the slippery cards slither through her fingers.  
  
"Ah, but Mistress, you must know a way," Quentin said, soothingly.  
  
"What the armies of Hell could not do, one amongst them can."  
  
"But you said that the One could not be broken," he asked, furrowing his brow.  
  
"It cannot," The whisper sounded like a howling desert wind. "But there are others within the wall. The spell has been cast. The enemy lies within."  
  
"I am in your debt, Mistress," Quentin said, bowing.  
  
"Mind your desires, Draconious," the sorceress hissed. "For every seed you sow that does not come to flower, the One becomes stronger."  
  
"Then I must succeed soon, mustn't I" Quentin asked, a wicked grin spreading across his face.  
  
"It is done," Lenora answered, her voice laced with annoyance. "Leave me."  
  
Quentin watched her flip the final card. The Wheel of Fortune. He turned, letting the door click softly shut behind him.  
  
*****  
  
Buffy stood in the doorway watching silently as Dawn threw punch after punch, kick after kick, and Spike either moved to block or valiantly took a hit. His blue shirt was now untucked and his hair a little ruffled, errant curls beginning to ease their way out of the sleeper hold of styling products. She smiled, watching them both. Like a lion teaching a cub to wrestle.  
  
"Hello, Pet," Spike said, grunting as he took a hook to the shoulder. Buffy no longer found it odd that he knew she was there even when, like now, his back was to her.  
  
"Hi," she answered, still smiling and leaning against the door frame. Buffy let a little thought of mentally unbuttoning his shirt fill her mind. Spike stopped dead.  
  
"Niblet," he said, a little out of breath. "Why don't we take a break?"  
  
"Tiring you out?" Dawn joked. Spike turned towards Buffy with a devious grin. Had to avoid telling Dawn that her sister was currently mentally undressing him and that was the cause of the sudden loss of breath.  
  
"No, just think your sis'd like to take a crack at me," he answered, raising an eyebrow at Buffy. Buffy's smile turned into a grin. *That* grin.  
  
"Fine, fine," Dawn said in mock annoyance. Legs are killing me, she thought. Must not limp from room. "Know when I'm not wanted," she sighed dramatically, as she stepped past Buffy and pulled the door closed behind her.  
  
"Drama queen," Buffy muttered, walking towards Spike.  
  
"Gee, wonder where she gets that?" Spike asked, smiling and letting his hands settle on Buffy's hips.  
  
"Couldn't be from the 'Shudder, the bloody apocalypse' Vampire that lives in the same house," Buffy joked in her pathetic London accent. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer.  
  
"Or the 'OoohmmmyyyGGGGoooodddd, the world is ending and I must rush in to save it' Slayer," Spike responded, letting his voice creep up at least ten octaves and twice the speed. Buffy punched his shoulder, pulling back away from him.  
  
"But I didn't come in here to talk about Dawn," Buffy said, assuming fighting stance. Spike stared at her oddly for a moment. Don't think you came here to train either, Spike thought, instinctively getting in position to do battle as well. Then it dawned on him. She fights when she has to, when she needs release, and when she is upset.  
  
"So, what then, Pet?" he asked, deflecting a blow that would have just caught his palm anyway. She was silent, sparring aggressively. If he could read her next move before, since the night they joined, he could anticipate her every move and she his. It was more a dance than ever. Neither of them could win. Didn't matter. The point was the dance.  
  
"Slayer?" Spike asked, raising one eyebrow and throwing a lazy left hook which she tossed to the side and answered with a quick jab.  
  
"You know that Giles is leaving tomorrow?" Undercut. Right hook.  
  
"He had mentioned it, Love. At least he got to stay for Emma's birthday." She ducked under a sweeping swing of his right arm.  
  
"Yeah, she won't let that stuffed bunny go," Buffy panted as he leapt over her leg sweep.  
  
"Think Anya would have liked to butcher him for giving it to her." Spike let Buffy make contact with a slow jab to the chest. If it makes her feel better, he thought.  
  
"I think Giles has really started to like you," Buffy said as Spike came at her. She threw an absolutely flawless back flip over the pommel horse from a stand still. Spike stopped, looking at her for a second with a cocked head and wondering eyes.  
  
"That was bloody *brilliant*," he commented, staring at his tiny partner in awe.  
  
"Thanks," she answered, tugging down her shirt and hopping back over the equipment. "Not as good as the wall thing, though."  
  
"Why, is that a compliment?" Spike asked, hoping to elicit a reaction.  
  
"Don't let it go to your head," Buffy answered, tossing another jab and starting the dance anew.  
  
"It means a lot... to me at least... that you two get along," Buffy said, spinning from an errant punch.  
  
"Finally won daddy's approval?" Spike snarked, ducking.  
  
"I'm serious, Spike," she answered, her face slacking, her eyes losing their sparkle. He could see the tears begin to pool behind her eyes and shuddered as if her sadness was his own. Spike caught her wrists as she jutted them forward for balance and stopped her mid kick.  
  
"What is it, Pet?" he asked, tugging her towards him. "Just say it."  
  
"I don't want him to leave," she whispered, looking like a little girl. She stared down at her sneakers, shuffling her feet. " I like the way it's been. Since, well, since what happened between us... happened... and Giles stayed and... I like it. It seems... normal and happy in a sort of come home from work covered in demon goo kind of way."  
  
"It's as if you had your dad back?" Spike asked, lifting her face with his fingers.  
  
" I missed him. I miss my mom. My real father."  
  
"Your *real* father should be shot from a cannon for leaving you and the Niblet in the lurch," Spike said, annoyance in his tone. "And for what it is worth, I miss your mum too. Wish she could see you now. See you with Emma. Think she'd like that."  
  
"Yeah," Buffy said wistfully, the tears dribbling slowly down. "But she left. Dad left. Giles is leaving..."  
  
"He'll be back, Love. You can count on that," Spike replied, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him. She rested her head on his chest, her fingers toying with the hem of his shirt.  
  
"I know," Buffy whispered, "But I'm still tired of people leaving."  
  
"You've had more than your share, Pet. I'll give you that. But it's part of life. People come and go. They leave. They die. Most *don't* come back," he said, kissing the top of her head. She chuckled through the tears. "Guess you just hold on to what you *do* have and make the best of it."  
  
Buffy pulled her head back and looked up at the eyes she had known since the beginning of time. They danced like crystal blue water in the sun. "But you won't leave me, right?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck.  
  
"Fraid you're stuck with me for all eternity. Being the One and all," Spike said melodramatically.  
  
"Heaven help us," Buffy snarked, still drizzling tears from huge green eyes. He touched her face with heartbreaking gentleness, brushing the tears off with his thumb.  
  
"Well, at least we will never be bored," Spike said, smiling softly at her. She chuckled again.  
  
"How is it that you always know, that you have always known, even when I *hated* you you knew, how to make me feel better?"  
  
"Because I loved you then and I love you now and always. You truly are my Everything," Spike said, kissing her nose. She closed her eyes, feeling him everywhere. Around her, in her mind, in her heart, swirling around in her soul.  
  
"I love you," she whispered, shifting onto her toes and kissing him gently. He lifted her onto the pommel horse, setting her gently on top, her lips still pressed to his. Her legs dangled loosely around his waist.  
  
"Say it again," Spike purred, raising his hands to her face. Every time she said it, he felt his heart sing. He kissed her once again with a little more fire.  
  
"I love you, Spike."  
  
She nibbled his bottom lip as he held her face to his, his mouth softly searching hers. Buffy pulled him closer, her legs wrapping tighter around his waist. "I need you," she whispered softly.  
  
"Buffy, you are my World," he said, catching her pretty eyes in his gaze.  
  
"Love me," she said softly, her hands caressing his face.  
  
"Always," he answered, her lips sealing his in a kiss.  
  
Every day, she thought as she lost herself in him and he in her.  
  
Lost and found.  
  
  
  
End Book Three 


End file.
